Sky Captain and the Scourge from the Reich
by CowboyBeboper
Summary: (CHAPT. 8 UP) With World War II underway, Sky Captain and his Flying Legions find themselves dealing a dubious Nazi plot to take over the world through the use of new jet powered fighters and mysterious scientific advances.
1. Chapter One

Here we go! Chapter 1! This is WIP because I want to make sure I've got some facts straight. Will come back to it later!

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Sky Captain and the Scourge from the Reich

A fan fiction

Chapter One

The year is 1941 and the world as we know it has been thrust into utter turmoil. Rising from its once devastated state, Germany, led by young and ambitious Adolf Hitler, has broken the rules of the set upon by the Treaty of Versailles and rebuilt its military power to an alarming degree. Before action could be taken, the Nazi military regime quickly struck against Poland, Belgium, the Netherlands and France in a show of extreme force. Aided by other dubious allies, Germany begun to spread its dark rule over Europe in a plan to create a Third Reich, a kingdom ruled by Hitler for one thousand years. However, there were those who would not submit to such a heinous rule. Great Britain has managed to keep the Nazi army clear from its shores, enduring deep scars from both aerial bombardment and the terrors of Hitler's Vengeance rockets. Britain's greatest claim over the Axis was its stunning victory over the German Air Force, the Luftwaffe, during the Battle of Britain, fending off a German air attack with its own air forces. Across the Atlantic, the United States was emerging from its isolationist state after the attack on Pearl Harbor by the Empire of Japan. The United States war machine went into high gear, producing massive amounts or war materiel in preparation to fight both Japan and Germany, who declared war on the States after the Pearl Harbor attack, as per the treaty agreements with Japan.

It would be several years before the Allies would make successful advances through enemies forces, years before the storming of Normandy and the Marine landings on Guadalcanal. However, no one realized how close the Allies came from being completely annihilated from a most sinister plan, one that would have spelled doom not only for Europe, but for the entire world. Such a plan would have occurred if it were not for the skill, prowess and bravery of Sky Captain Joseph Sullivan and his Flying Legions.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The British Royal Navy aerial platform hung silently among the large cumulous clouds, the four giant propeller engines making a low, continuous droning as it supported the large object high in the sky. The flight deck was quiet, as the crews busied themselves with their various tasks. A small group of mechanics worked casually on one of the amphibious ships, making sure that the cockpit would be properly secured for underwater travel. At the very front of the platform stood a large, cylindrical building which housed several barracks, a mess hall and the command post. Painted on both sides of the structure was a large white number nine, the very front of the structure held a giant British flag.

On the top floor of the structure, Richard Cunningham, the captain of Platform Nine, sat casually in his large metal chair holding a small cup of dark liquid in his right hand while his eyes glanced over a large area map of Great Britain sitting on a table in front of him. The map had several small red slash marks over the southern and mid western portions of the map, indicated the latest targets of the Nazi terror bombings, a series of bombing raids inflicted upon the populated cities intended to force the country to back down against German military advances. Cunningham furrowed his brow at all of the slash marks, noting that the bombings have increased in frequency and intensity. He spoke to his second in command, his voice low and thick with accent.

"Well, my boy, what do you make of this?"

"Sir?"

"I mean, right now Britain is being severely battered by those blasted Nazi bombers and here were are stuck in the Atlantic and forced to look out for merchant ships. We should be hovering over home and helping to keep an eye or two over Her Majesty's skies."

The younger man felt uncomfortable when the captain spoke up like this. He wanted to protect the British skies just as bad, but he felt that an order was an order and should never be questioned or second-guessed. Seeing his captain, his superior, act is such a fashion bothered him slightly. "Well, sir, the war effort needed us here. Watching ship traffic is a very important duty."

Cunningham let out a short laugh, his second in command was a young man, _how long has he been out of Officer's training when he came on my platform? Four months? Five?_ "My boy," Cunningham said as he sipped his lukewarm tea, "soon you'll realize that errands such as these, while important, can be dreadfully boring. You'll soon come to realize what a little excitement can do to the blood. Makes a man like me feel young again." The older man's smile slowly drooped into a frown. "If things continue to go on as they have been for a longer period of time, though, I'm afraid we will all be seeing enough excitement to last us three lifetimes."

"We are not alone in our fight, sir," the younger officer said.

Cunningham brushed a small piece of lint off the shoulder of his navy blue uniform. He set his cup down over the map and looked at his second officer. "Yes and about bloody time too. I was wondering when those Americans were going to realize they would have to help us chaps out. Pity what happened though, eh? A horrible disaster, Pearl was. My heart goes out to all who were there and died that morning."

The younger officer nodded his head and crossed himself. When he brought his head back up, he watched his captain lift from his chair and walk towards the center of the command post. With his arms behind his back, the older man walked among several other officers who were working quietly, filling out reports and checking various communications systems. He paused over another crewmember who was hunched over the large circular radar screen. The imager held very little of interest, the rotating green line picking up absolutely nothing over the Atlantic Ocean. Cunningham cursed to himself. Platform Nine was stationed several hundred miles away from the coast of Spain and there had been nothing worth reporting for several weeks. He felt as if he really needed to be back over the skies of London.

Having his fill of the radar device, Cunningham walked to the very front of the command post and gazed outside the large glass window, his hands resting firmly on the steel railing. His eyes struggled to keep up with various aircraft running maneuvers and drills in the air, gliding through the skies like agile birds. He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head as he acknowledged that his vision wasn't as good as it had been. If it was, he would be out there in the skies this moment instead of having to listen to the endless stream of reports that nothing had been spotted over the ocean. The younger officer met up with Cunningham and stood several feet behind him.

"I'm glad we will finally have the support of the Americans. With their industrial weight, I'm sure they can lend us a hand. We have to be especially careful, though. I bet ol' Adolf wasn't too pleased with having to declare war on the States. I'll bet he was pretty upset with the Japanese."

"I guess he felt he had to," the younger officer said, "given his treaty with his Axis nations. If any of them had been forced into a declared war, Germany would have had to declare war on the non-Axis country."

"Now that the Americans have thrown their hat in the ring, I dare say Adolf is going to try to do something that will either knock them out in one blow or take us out. Either way, we must be on our guard. Now is the time when the enemy is unpredictable and also the most dangerous." Both men nodded and continued to look out into the horizon. Often there were breaks in the clouds, exposing the massive blue sea. Watching the ocean always made Cunningham feel relaxed to the point of sleep. He checked his wristwatch and marked the time. It was just before noon and there would be several hours before he had to report back in to London. He looked at his second in command.

"I'm going to take a bit of a rest. You man the post while I am away. Remember to report anything out of the ordinary."

The young officer's eyes lit up at the request, his hand firm against his temple in salute. Cunningham half heartedly saluted back as he started making his way down the central staircase that led into the lower levels of the command structure. Just as he was about to fully descend the stairs, an explosion rocked the platform, causing almost everyone crashing to the floor. Cunningham fell face first onto the steel floor. He tried to scramble to his feet but the entire platform was shaking violently. After several trips and falls, he managed to get to his feet and rush back to the command post, screaming at his crew.

"What the bloody hell was that?! Report! I want a full report now!"

"Captain, we've lost propeller four!" As soon as the officer shouted the words, Cunningham felt the platform shake harder and begin a slow descent. He continued to bark commands.

"How did it happen! I want answers!" Before he could continue, Cunningham saw several dark objects streak across the sky in front of the observation window. He blinked several times. _What was that? Is it just my eyes?_ He looked over to his second in command who was frantically staring out the window.

"Did you see that too?" Cunningham asked.

The younger officer didn't speak, only nodded his head as he tried to hold onto large table to prevent his falling. Another explosion rocked the platform, but not as violent as before. He heard a female voice ring in from a nearby intercom, the reception static and choppy.

"Captain!—lost—numb—two—hanger!—see—fast, incre—bly fast pl—"The radio transmission cut off, the only receiving sound was static. Cunningham shouted at the younger officer. "I want planes deployed now! Tell them to defend the platform and see just what the hell is out there!"

The officer ran towards one of the center consoles and slammed his fist against the intercom button. His voice was lost to Cunningham as the shouting and confusion grew louder. Platform Nine continued to shake and rattle violently as the mysterious attack continued. Cunningham yelled to his second officer, giving him the command as he began his trek to the exterior platform. He shoved his way past a sea of scared, confused officers, pilots and medical staff. Upon reaching the outer platform, his eyes were met with a horrible sight. Pillars of black smoke and fire littered the landing deck. Several crewmembers could be seen running for dear life, others trying to put out the fires. Just as he stepped out from the relative safety of the cylindrical structure, a loud, intense roaring filled his ears which caused him to clasp his hands tightly over his ears. The roaring sounded as if it flew by over his head. Looking up into the clouds, he saw his own planes scrambling into the air, appearing as if they were nothing more than mindless gnats. They looked as if they were chasing something, but Cunningham couldn't tell what they were going after. Hearing the familiar roaring sound beginning once again, he turned his head towards the direction of the sound and spotted a strange, black object coming towards Platform Nine at an incredible speed. When the object flew over the platform, the sound of machine gun fire accompanying the flyby, Cunningham couldn't believe his eyes. The object looked like an airplane, but it had no propellers. Instead, there was one cylinder shaped object attached to each wing that left a small tail of orange flame. He marveled at the speed in which the mysterious plane flew through the sky, easily overtaking his fighters and shooting them down. He wondered if his eyes were continuing to play tricks on him.

Cunningham stood out in the open, watching the terrible spectacle, unaware that his second officer was standing behind him, shouting in his ears. It took several seconds until he recognized the words spilling out of the terrified young man's mouth.

"There is something very big heading this way! What are we going to do?!"

"Get us out of here!"

"We can't! We don't have enough power with three propeller engines!"

Just as Cunningham was rushing back inside, he heard a most terrible sound coming from a dense cloudbank directly behind the landing deck of Platform Nine. All other sounds seemed to stop, there were no more roars from the mysterious planes and all shouting seemed to cease. Cunningham looked about him and noticed the surviving crewmembers all focused their attention on the cloudbank in front of them. Cunningham's heart raced as the low, deep rumbling grew louder and closer. After what felt like an eternity, an object slowly began to appear from the clouds. The front of the object looked similar to the command structure of Platform Nine except that it seemed more slick and streamlined. The tower came to a point where it was topped off with some type of fin. The base of the structure was long and wide and dotted with several square objects. It took a second for Cunningham to register the object, but when he came to he realized why he was shocked. The object was a bigger and more sinister looking version of the Royal Navy platforms. Flashes of light began to emit from the square turrets lining the front of the black platform followed by more explosions and whizzing sounds of the bullets passing by at an extreme velocity. The black platform seemed to be moving faster and maneuvered better than his own. Cunningham glanced at the visible underside of the black platform and noticed larger cylindrical objects that were similar to the smaller ones attached to the attack planes.

Cunningham saw small objects fly from the bottom of the black ship that flew through the air towards Platform Nine, leaving a trail of smoke. More explosions caused the Platform to shake as the missiles hit their targets. As Cunningham watched the black platform destroy his ship, he squinted his eyes and looked to the direct center of the command structure, noticing a large red rectangle with a white circle painted in the center. He could barely make out the black design in the center of the circle. As the black platform loomed closer towards Platform Nine, his eyes mirrored bitter anger and hatred as the Nazi swastika came into view. _How in the hell did they come up with such a platform?_

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A German officer stood in front of the observation window, a small smile of satisfaction on his lips as his weaponry continued to rip the British platform to pieces. His face was hard and angular, his hair dark. He stood with his arms behind his back, listening to the reports of the damage being inflicted upon the enemy platform. As he watched the spectacle, heard an officer come up behind him and speak in the low, guttural German.

"The British Platform is severely damaged, Captain Faust. Shall I recall our jet fighters?"

Faust stood silent for a moment, watching the destructive display. He reveled at such terrible and awesome destruction. He was amazed at the power his warship held, how fast it could be thanks to the idea of replacing propeller engines with new jet engines. Faust turned at the officer and smiled.

"Recall all fighters. Then I want you to blow that platform out of the sky." The officer smiled before clicking his boots together in the briefest of salutes. Faust called out to the officer. "See about recording this. I know a few people who would be eager to see how well their new toys have tested."

Captain Richter Faust, leader of the new Luftwaffe Jet Squadron and commander of the Jet Platform Division, watched with glowing fascination as the high velocity missiles struck the British platform with such marvelous violence. He felt a type of elation a child would upon receiving the smiles and praise of his Fuhrer as a missile ripped through the command structure, sending shards of metal and shrapnel high into the air. More missiles shot from the black platform, striking the bases of two more propeller engines. The British platform slowly moved forward in pitch, its metal underbelly facing the Nazi platform. Three more missiles flew from the black ship and strike at the direct center of the crippled platform, causing it to snap in half. Faust followed the debris as it crashed into the ocean below. He let out a pleasurable sigh as he spun on the heels of his black leather boots, the medals on the left breast of his coat sparkling in the light. He nodded and smiled at his beaming crew.

"A successful test, I'd say." Faust said as he rubbed his hands together.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Captain Francesca Cook stood in front of a small observation window in her cabin aboard Platform One. Her left eye doing its best to keep up with the small blue planes follow each other through the light blue sky. Her dark brown hair covered the right side of her face, concealing her eye patch, and down over her shoulder barely touching her arms which had been folded over her chest. She wore a light blue shirt and the dark navy blue pants of her officer's uniform. She had just been preparing herself for the day when she got side tracked from watching the airplanes glide through the air. The room was large, nicely furnished and contained a living space and office area, a separate bedroom and bathroom. One of the benefits of being Captain was the rather luxuriant accommodation which Franky slightly enjoyed. As she walked over to her closet for the dark top of her uniform, the intercom button lit up on her desk, emitting a soft beeping noise. Franky put her arms through the coat as she walked over to the small desk which was situated on the other side of the cabin. Pressing the button down firmly with two fingers, she spoke into the speaker.

"Franky, here."

A woman's voice broke through into the room, "Captain, you have orders from HQ. We just received them."

"I'll be up immediately." Franky lifted her fingers from the button and slipped all of the buttons through the holes of her coat. Taking her long hair into both hands, she wrapped it into a bun and held it in place with several pins. She put on her dark cap and made her way out of the cabin. She walked down the long, steel corridor which was lined with doors leading to the rooms for other higher-ranking officers. As she made her way to the central elevators, she returned the salutes officers and crew had given her. She held a light conversation with one of the pilots as they stepped through the lift, riding it all the way to the command deck. Once the doors opened, she ascended the steel stairway and walked over to her second in command.

"What do you have for me, Lucy?"

"We just finished decoding a message from HQ, Captain." The young woman handed Frank a small slip of yellow paper where a message was hastily written:

Captain Cook,

Dangerous development. Request your presence at HQ immediately.

Report in at 1300 hours.

Platform Commander Edmund.

Frank folded the message into a small square before addressing her second officer. "I want full power to engines. We're going back to Britain. Take me to Airfield 38. I want regular patrols. Report anything of interest to me immediately." The other woman snapped a salute before addressing the helmsman with Franky's flight instructions.

Franky examined the map table and placed a finger over Platform One's current position which was several hundred miles off the Iceland coast. At full speed it would take a handful of hours before they reached the British airspace. To fill up the time, she kept herself busy listening to patrol reports and daily news on the British war efforts. She too had heard about the Japanese attack on the States and was glad to finally get some support against the Nazi war machine. She wondered what Joseph was up to, if he and the other Flying Legions had a hand in Pearl's defense. Franky also wondered about this supposed "dangerous development" and why she was being asked for by HQ. The urgency of the message bothered her slightly.

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"Platform Nine...destroyed?" Franky's left eye was wide, her full lips tight with scorn which tried hard to mask her shock. "What about her crew? What about...her captain?"

She stood in front of a large oak desk at attention, trying her best to keep her composure at the news. Behind the desk sat Simon Edmund, Commander of the Royal Navy's Platform Division. He was a tall, slim man who wore a similar dark blue uniform as Franky, but the medals on his chest and the number of stripes on his shoulders kept them separate. Edmund's hair was a light gray and slightly slicked back, his face long and firm. Wrinkles formed in his brow as he placed his fists against his lips in thought, trying to come over the shock of yesterday's attack himself.

"I'm afraid all hands were lost. From the reports and radio chatter we received, the damage was extensive. It didn't help being over open sea either. We dispatched rescue planes, but they arrived too late. It took a full two hours before we got their distress signal. The only thing the planes found were bodies and wreckage." The man shook his head as he leaned back into his leather chair. "We've initiated a recovery operation, but reports say that many of the crew cannot be accounted for."

Franky lowered her head. She knew Cunningham for several years and had been a friend to him when she spent a few months serving under his command. She knew that a war on such a huge scale would tear friends away from everyone, but the news of Cunningham's possible death combined with the entire destruction of a Royal Navy Platform was still a complete shock to her. "What do we know about the attack?"

Edmund got up from his chair and walked across the large room. The walls were lined with oak and decorated with various paintings of prominent British military figures. On the center of the opposite wall stood a large painting of Britain's Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, who, leaning on his cane, had a scouring face that showed defiance against all of Her Majesty's enemies. Edmund stopped in front of a large square audio device. The tall man picked up a metal reel which held a wrapped up line of a thin, brown plastic material. After taking a small amount of time setting up the machine, the Commander flipped a switch, a red light indicating that power had been infused within the device. The recording was full of static, but there were times when I younger man's voice came through.

"This is –tform Nine. We are under attack. Mysterious –form, coming from the clouds. New Nazi figh—rs closing. Too fast, knocking out our ships. Lost –nningham on flight deck from –issile explosion. Enemy –form closing. All engines destroyed, losing control over Atlantic. Enemies are just too fast." Suddenly, loud screaming came from somewhere on the ailing platform's command deck. Explosions could be heard among the shouts until the transmission abruptly cut.

Franky placed her hands on her hips in thought and whispering a silent prayer for her friend as Edmund slowly made his way back to his seat. "As you could probably tell, Captain, it appears Platform Nine has met its fate at the hands of some new German technology. Based on what the analysts could pick up from the message, we suspect that Nine was forced to engage with a German aerial platform. One that obviously out gunned and out maneuvered our own."

Franky nodded. "I'm just as concerned about the new fighters," Franky said as she took a seat close to the desk. "The ones we've designed are quite agile and could take practically anything handed to them. What type of fighters could the Germans create? I've gone toe to toe with some of their Messerschmitts and none of them weren't anything we couldn't handle."

"What ever it is, Captain, I'm putting all Platforms on full alert. If the Nazis have come up with some sort of new weapon, we will have to be on our guard to make sure they don't gain any unfavorable advantages. I've already spoken with several heads in the M.O.D. and they assured they would be looking into the matter and assign appropriate divisions to try and find out just what the bloody Germans are up to. As for you, I'm assigning several Platforms to undergo extended patrol rotations. We'll need as many eyes as possible over Britain to make sure that the cities are safe from any other Nazi surprises. I'm assigning your Platform to group with Eight, Ten, Eleven and Fourteen. You'll fly through the regular patrol routes, report on anything strange and have orders to shoot any unfriendlies out of the sky. I'm also placing you in charge of this patrol group. Is everything clear, Captain Cook?"

"Crystal, sir."

"Good. Dismissed."

Franky gave the Commander a quick salute before spinning on her heels and leaving the office. She quickly met up with the pilots who escorted her fighter down to Airfield 38 which was located on the southwestern tip of the continent. After their fighters were prepped and refueled, Franky and her wingmen guided their planes to Platform One's holding position just a few miles away. She took a good long look at her ship, promising to do anything she could to keep her up in the skies. Once her ship had landed, she ordered the platform on full alert and soon met up with the other four Platforms and held their position over the island. She relayed her orders to the other Platform Captains and proceeded to protect Her Majesty's skies, all the while wondering what exactly did Cunningham run into.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

In the skies over the West Coast region of the United States, Joseph Sullivan was accompanied by three wingmen, their P-40 Warhawks flying up and down the coastal areas in one of many lengthy patrols. Ever since the attack on Pearl Harbor, cities in this portion of the United States grew increasingly afraid of more attacks by Japanese forces. Joseph didn't really know what to make of this claim. Judging by the distance, he believed that the Pearl Harbor attack was essentially a suicide run for the Japanese pilots. Unless they had carrier support, there was no way the fighters could get back home after expending the amount of fuel it would take to reach the island and conduct their attacks. He felt bad for not being able to do anything that day. Much like the rest of the country, the news of the attack came shortly after the Zeros had dropped their payloads. Being stationed on the island just miles away from New York, there was no way he could get there in time to do anything. Participating with the patrols over the West Coast, needed or not, made him felt a bit better and less guilty about his absence.

He remembered what the country was like after the attack. The split between pro-war and isolationists quieted and recruiting centers found themselves packed with volunteers. Sullivan volunteered for the service and, although he didn't need to, encouraged his Flying Legions to do the same. Days after the bombing, the United States Air Force fully enlisted the aid of Sky Captain and his wing of Flying Legions to support the American war effort.

As bad as things got at Pearl, Joseph did recognize the bit of good that came from that terrible day. Military analysts believed that the goal of the Japanese fighters was to not only destroy the American shipyards but also to knock out their aircraft carriers. By doing so, their control in the Pacific would have been absolute and the United States would have had little chances of fighting. Thankfully the American aircraft carriers had been away from Pearl on maneuvers, giving the United States the opportunity to fight another day. Unfortunately, regardless of what was gained for the United States on December 7th, immediately after the attack the Empire of Japan began their conquest of China and the Philippines. Joseph continued to think of the worldwide ramifications of this new conflict. Suddenly, a voice came in through his radio.

"Looks like clean skies, Captain." The two other pilots on his wing reported similar statements.

"It certainly does, boys," Joseph said into his radio. "That's it for today then, let's head back."

The wing of Warhawks turned around and headed back to the landing field they established just outside of Long Beach, California. It took several hours to get there, but the planes touched the runway safe and sound. After the planes were guided into the hanger, Joseph shut down his engines and pulled off his goggles and leather flight cap. Hopping out of the cockpit, he steadied himself on the wing of the plane before jumping lightly to the ground. As he watched the ground crews tow his plane into one of the holds, Joseph slid a hand through his brown slicked hair. Placing his goggles into one of the pockets of his bomber jacket, he walked towards the office space that was established for him when they moved in. He stopped to greet several pilots and mechanics, participating in all manners of chitchat such as the war effort, the daily coast patrols and life in California. He always made sure to make time for the pilots considering that they the newest additions to the Flying Legions. Several years ago, when Totenkopf's machines terrorized the world, several of the robotic warplanes discovered the Legion's hideaway and managed to pull off some extensive damage to aircraft and pilots. Yet it didn't take long for the Legion to grow back in strength since the United States' declaration of war.

Joseph continued his casual walk to his office, stepping carefully over the large makeshift emblem of the Flying Legions. A large lion looked as if it were in mid pounce, it's mouth open wide with all teeth exposed and his paws extended. Below the lion was a banner containing the Latin phrase, "Ille Caelum Fremitus," _He who makes the sky roar_. Such a phrase would have rang true if there was a reason to. When he went on patrol every day, he was always met with clear skies. Part of him was thankful, but the other part hungered for action. He'd assume that the Legion would be delegated to coastal patrol duties while the rest of the Air Force got to join in with the Pacific and European Theater of Operations. He wished he could go over to Europe, it would be interesting to see what the Luftwaffe could dish out. Plus, it would be great to fly along side Franky again.

Joseph reached his office and opened the door. The room was small and confining, but it was enough for him. The left wall was littered with various newspaper clippings about the war while the opposite wall was home to a large chalkboard which carried small scribblings of detailed flight assignments and sorties. On any other given day, his room was his private sanctuary, but today he found his friend Dex Dearborn sitting in his chair, his feet propped up against the face of the desk, his boots covering a small pile of maps and blueprints. Dex has his head buried into the pages of a Buck Rogers comic book.

"How are we doing today, Dex?"

"Not too bad, Cap."

Joseph felt an unnatural surge in his stomach and walked over to the filing cabinet. Pulling the top drawer out, he reached into the space and pulled out a black bottle which contained Milk of Magnesia. Reaching for a small shot glass next to a liquor bottle, he poured the white fluid into the glass and drank it down. His stomach settled several seconds later.

"I can't understand it, Cap," Dex said as he got up from the desk, folding the comic and placing it into the back pockets of his brown pants. "One of the greatest pilots around who's accomplished some pretty amazing feats always manages to get sick to his stomach."

Joseph smiled as he placed the bottle back into the filing cabinet. He walked over and sat on the edge of the desk. "What brings you here, Dex? Came for the results of another patrol? Just like the day before and the day before that: nothing. I wish we could be like those boys in the Flying Tigers. You now 'em. They volunteered to help out the RAF when things started getting a little intense over there. Wish we'd got into that." Joseph picked up one of Dex's comic books and flipped through it. Like many other issues, the comic told the exciting space adventures of Buck Rogers. He had found some amusement with the stories, but Dex had been fascinated by them. So much so that he started inventing gadgets that mimicked those found in the comics. The Royal Navy Platforms and the modifications made to his P-40 Warhawk were living proof of Dex's skillful accomplishments. Joseph looked up from the comic book and raised an eyebrow at the younger man's wide smile.

"What are you smiling about, Dex?"

"Oh nothing, Cap," Dex said as he handed a telegram to Joseph. "Except for a reassignment."

Joseph shot a hopeful glance at Dex as he tore open the envelope. As soon as he finished reading the message, he let out a cheerful laugh and clapped his hands. "We're going to Europe!"

"That's right, Cap. Got word about some troops being headed over to Europe. The powers at be felt the need to get a few escort planes out there to cover the boats, so I made the suggestion." Dex smiled as he unwrapped a piece of pink bubble gum and placed it in his mouth.

"Good boy, Dex! When can we leave?"

"War department said that the initial troop ships are heading out tomorrow morning. We are to report to a landing field in New York near one of the major docks."

"What about this place? We just leave it empty?"

"Nah, it will get a detachment of Air Force planes and pilots. They'll take over coastal patrol duties. All we have to do is just pack up and head over to New York by 9:00 tomorrow morning if we want to leave on time."

"Excellent," Joseph said with excitement as he leaped off his desk. "I assume we will be stationed in Britain, which part?"

"Not too sure, Cap. I expect we'll know once we get to New York. I'll bet we'll be situated somewhere South to help guard the English Channel."

"Great news, Dex," Joseph said as he sat at his desk and started compiling all the information his replacements will need to know. "Why don't you alert all officers about the move and have them prep everything." He looked at his watch, it was 3:30 in the afternoon. "I want everyone pack, planes prepped and ready to leave at 5:00. Radio whoever you need to make sure and get the replacements here by that time."

"You got it, Cap." Dex made his way to out of the office. Before he got through the door, he heard Joseph call his name. "Yeah, Cap?"

"By the way, Dex, how did you get the information about the troop shipments? Sounds like classified-type material."

Dex had stopped chewing his gum as he quickly came up with an answer. He shrugged his shoulders before speaking. "Uh, it was nothing special really. Just asked around. Figured the government could trust us to help protect our boys."

Joseph rubbed his chin and hummed to himself. "Well, no big deal, really. Thanks again, Dex, you're a lifesaver."

Dex gave his friend a quick, two-finger salute and left him furiously scribbling down notes onto a pad of paper. Dex let out a sigh of relief as he made his way to the officer's quarters.

Several hours later, the landing field of the Legion's base was full of airplanes getting ready to take flight. While Dex and Joseph were going through a final checklist, they were visited by an Air Force officer who had come to take control of the base. After shaking hands and filling out forms, Dex went with Joseph into his airplane and was one of the last planes to leave the airfield. Looking back, Dex could see several jeeps, trucks and buses full of pilots and officers. Joseph looked ahead and spotted several wings of American fights and convoy planes coming from the opposite direction. He was glad the shift had gone well. He was also happy that he and his boys were going to be placed near the frontlines so that they could help do their part for the war.


	5. Chapter Five

Hello again everyone! Here is Chapter five. Sorry it took so long to get posted but school and The Sims 2 have taken some writing time away, lol. Before you all jump into the chapter, I just wanted to take this opportunity to say thanks to everyone who sent me reviews. I'm really glad you all are enjoying it so far and I'm surprised with how many reviews I've gotten for such small chapters! I sincerely hope that the story I have in mind won't disappoint. Oh and thanks to those who suggested help when it comes to German phrases. I plan to use them but I can't remember a thing from high school German classes :P so I might ask for some help when the time comes to do German scenes.

Enough of that now, enjoy chapter 5! There might be some grammatical and word choice problems, but its 3.15 in the morning and I am too tired to check it now. I wanted to post a chapter for those who have been waiting for new stuff. I'll try and write a couple more tomorrow. Enjoy!

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Chapter Five

Joe stood with Dex against the metal railing which separated the men from the vast ocean before them. They had arrived in the airfield next to the dock where the troop ship would be deployed and hour before they were required to fly escort. Joe had never seen such a large number of soldiers gathered together in one place. The large cargo ship sat quietly in the water as men after men boarded the vessel, their hands gripping their duffel bags tightly, their faces all conveying the feeling of anticipation and excitement. Joe watched as senior officers marked the names of soldiers who checked in before walking the large ramp leading to the ships hold. Various trucks and jeeps swarmed the area like ants, carrying personnel and supplies from one point to another. Dock workers moved around quickly trying to accommodate the large number of people. Joe had managed to shake hands and converse with some of the troops waiting their turn to board. He found out that many of them were part of the 501st Airborne Division and were trained specifically jump out of planes and into enemy lies. Joe thought the idea was both amazing and absurd, as he always felt the most comfortable inside the plane. _There is never any reason to jump out of a perfectly good plane!_ He thought to himself. Still, Joe admired their bravery for such an action. The U.S. military never really used paratroopers in military battles before, so these men were the first to put the idea into practice. He had heard the Germans using it during one of their earlier battles and Joe could see the benefit of gliding over the sky and dropping right in the middle of strategic areas with a dozen squads of soldiers. If done right, a building could be overrun fairly quickly. The idea concerned him, as he wondered if the German higher command fully realized its potential and applied it to any U.S. invasions.

When it appeared that the last group of soldiers were ready to board the ship, Joe and Dex found a spare jeep and drove away from the dock and to a makeshift airfield where the P-40s and cargo planes were being refueled and prepped. Joe spoke with several of the pilots while Dex went and conversed with the mechanics. Joe looked at his watch and noted that it was fifteen minutes before the troop ship would leave the dock. He wanted to be in the air by then so he called his pilots together and handed out flight assignments. Five planes would join Joe's wing and escort the troop ship halfway to Britain where it will then meet up with a small group of destroyers and scout ships. At that point, they would fly escort for several hours before heading to the country itself and report in with RAF command. The remaining P-40s will fly with the cargo planes directly to Britain and help maintain the Legion's base of operations. When everything was said and done, pilots rushed to their planes, filling the field with the sound of sputtering engines and droning propellers. Joe was the last one to get his plane started because he helped out with the last minute preparations for the cargo planes and saying goodbye to Dex who decided to hitch a ride with the bigger craft.

Joe sat in his plane and watched as the cargo plane and her escorts formed up and headed down the dirt runway. He fitted his brown leather gloves over his hands and placed his goggles over his eyes. Gripping the flight stick, he increased the speed of his engines and began to taxi his P-40 onto the runway. He glanced to his right and left, trying to spot if everyone was in formation. Radioing a last minute check, Joe watched as the first group climbed up into the skies and through the clouds. With a deep breath, Joe gripped the throttle and pushed it forward, his vehicle speeding down the road. His stomach lurched lightly as his plane began to gain altitude, the ground behind him quickly getting smaller. He flipped a switch on his console and heard the mechanical whirring of his landing gear moving into its closed position. Easing his flight stick to the right, his plane turned and headed towards the dock, his wingmen flying in perfect formation. It wasn't long before they saw the troop ship make its way out of the dock and headed out to see. Joe could see the deck of the ship appear as if it was covered by a giant beige tarp as the soldiers watched their home slowly pull away from them. He let his heart go out to them, knowing that the infantry will no doubt the most action and be constantly thrown into harm's way.

Joe reached for his radio, setting the frequency to his wing. "All right, boys. This is it. The Flying Legions have officially joined the war. Be on a sharp lookout for enemy planes or ships. I trust all of you have studies your charts and blueprints. I don't want any friendly casualties out there on our first run." He knew that the passage from the States to the rendezvous point would be a bit tense considering that the _Kreigsmarine_, the German Navy, was engaging Allied ships in order to attempt to win a battle of attrition. Dubbed the Battle of the Atlantic, Allied shipping was hampered by German _Unterseeboats_, or U-boats (submarines) who attacked cargo ships with ferocity, causing the collective of U-boats engaged in these raids to be known as Wolf packs. It would take a keen eye to spot U-boats before they could launch any damaging attacks. Until they could get to the other Allied destroyers, Joe was pretty much on his own. There were several Royal Navy platforms in the skies, but they were delegated to patrolling British airspace and it would take some time to get any support fighters in the event of an attack. He ordered his men to watch the sea and the sky from any possible attack.

---

The flight to the rendezvous point turned out to be a relatively quiet one. Some of the pilots on Joe's wings thought they spotted something and went to investigate, but it either turned out to be an Allied ship or plane. There was one incident that Joe will never forget and neither would the rest of his wing. About three hours into their escort flight, a younger pilot of Joe's wing shouted into his radio.

"Captain! Look on your right! About three or four miles away! See that dark object? I think it's a U-boat! We have to act fast!"

Joe peered out of the right side of his cockpit window and could see a long dark object slowly moving through the blue water. The skies over this particular area were relatively free of clouds, and with the sun beating down onto the ocean surface, the object was very easy to spot. He had never seen a submarine, but Joe thought that the object moved too slowly to be one. He had studied German submarines and knew most of them were capable of moving quite fast. They had to be if they were meant for strikes against Allied shipping. Before he could say anything, the young pilot broke formation and headed towards the object, his guns firing two short bursts in warning. Joe watched the pilot circle around the object several times and blinked in surprise as the object broke the surface of the water and then dipped back underwater, a plume of white shooting upwards into the air. Joe smiled as he watched the pilot make its way back into formation without saying a word.

"Well?" Joe asked through his radio.

"Cap, uh. It turned out to be a whale, sir."

Joe heard laughter through his radio as the other pilots in his wing spoke up.

"Now, lad," a pilot said. "Glad you acted so quickly! No telling what those Nazi whales are capable of!"

"Hey, I just hope we don't run into the renowned _Luft_-gulls," said another. "Those birds are crazy!"

Joe couldn't help but laugh, it was a nice break from the tension they all felt during the flight. The pilots continued to rag on the younger pilot, enjoying the moment. After the laughter died down, Joe spoke into the radio, telling the other pilots to keep as sharp an eye out as the younger pilot did.

Joe spotted several American and British destroyers lying ahead and signaled the ships through his radio. After a short exchange of pleasantries, the warships headed towards the troop ships while Joe's wing flew above them in circles until the ships moved into escort formation. As the small group of ships made their way towards Britain, Joe flew escort for another three hours before breaking away and heading straight to their objective, a small airfield on the southern tip of the continent.

When the landing field came into view, Joe pulled back on the throttle a bit and let his landing gear down. He asked for clearance and was accepted by a man with a heavy accent. Soon enough, Joe and the rest of his wing landed safely onto the airfield and taxied their planes to the nearby hangers. He watched as his cargo planes were unloading the necessary supplies and equipment into one of the large hangers, trying to see if Dex was handling everything appropriately. With his plane properly parked and the engine shut down, Joe hopped out of his plane and felt the cool breeze coming from the Channel crush against his cheeks and rustle his hair. He zipped up his bomber jacket and made his way towards the cargo places sitting in the middle of the airfield. He saw Dex conversing with a figure a head taller than him, a small red cap placed atop his dark hair, his clothes composed of light pants and a dark blue sweater. Joe met up with the man who introduced himself as Arthur Francis who operated the small control field for the airfield. He shook hands with Joe and the two men conversed lightly before Arthur left to go radio in the Legion's arrival to RAF command. Arthur had set up transport for Joe and his entire flight crew to go there and present themselves.

After getting everyone together, Arthur picked everyone up and drove them and drove them several miles down the road which had been lined with tall hedgerows. The small jeep had to pass through several security checkpoints and most of the guards gave Joe a wary glance when he couldn't provide any identification papers. Arthur told the guards that they had just arrived and will receive their papers when they get to the command post. Twenty minutes later, Joe and his pilots were led into a brick and mortar building which was busy with British officers. Many were running in and out the front doors, flashing identification papers to various guards, saluting to other officers they ran into. There was a light din of conversation inside the building mixed with the clacking of frantic typewriters. Joe and his pilots were led by Arthur up several flights of stairs and directed to a room that sat at the end of a long hall lined with several artistic portraits of people Joe barely recognized. Arthur opened the large oak door and pushed the pilots through it before shutting the door behind them. Joe motioned for his men to stand attention while he approached the older man sitting in the desk before him and saluted.

"Sky Captain Joseph Sullivan and his Flying Legions reporting for duty, sir."

The older man sitting at the desk looked up at Joe from a newspaper and peered at him from head to toe. He got up from his chair and stood close to Joe, staring at him for several moments before sitting on his desk and speaking casually.

"Well, Mr. Sullivan. I'd like to welcome you to the war. I normally don't pay any attention to recommendations give by non-military personnel, but when your name came up, I decided to make an exception."

Joe felt curious at the statement. _What does he mean "non-military personnel_?" Before he could ask for clarification, the older man spoke again. "I am 2nd Lieutenant Geoffrey Fraiser and I am the commander of this particular portion of the country. From now one, you will report to me unless you are requested to Command Headquarters, understand?"

"Yes, sir." Joe motioned for his men to address Fraiser, each of them giving the same reply.

"Good. Glad to hear that the famous Sky Captain knows to follow orders. I'm sure we will all get along fine. Now before I let you go, I have a few things for you. I'll need to give you all security papers which will let you through some of the major security checkpoints. I will also need you give me a detailed flight roster, listing everyone in your Legion."

Each member of Joe's Flying Legion signed themselves in and received a small booklet that contained various papers identifying which security level they had been designated. When the administrative details were put to rest, Fraiser addressed the men once again.

"Glad to have that taken care of, gents. Now, I normally like to see what our new recruits can do with themselves. I have set up a simple mission for you, nothing special really, just a routine patrol. However, light enemy contact is to be expected. You are to engage any German fighters you spot. We don't want them anywhere near us, understood?"

"Understood, sir."

"Good." Fraiser looked passed Joe and addressed his pilots. "You chaps may leave now. I want to go over the details of the patrol to Joe who will then brief you later. You are free to secure transportation back to the airfield if you wish now that you have proper clearance. Thank you for your support gentlemen, give 'em hell and win this war, understood?"

The men responded and give a firm salute to the 2nd Lieutenant before leaving the office. Dex looked at Joe and sensed his excitement over the prospect of a bona fide mission. He made his way into the hallway and began to make his way downstairs but was sidetracked by a familiar face.

Joe stood next to Fraiser who was bent over looking at a large map of the area Joe was expected to patrol.

"This is essentially a milk run, Joe. I want to see what you boys are made of. Once you take off from the airfield, I want you to head to this point near Dunkirk." The older man placed his finger over the place on the map he referred to. "I want you then to head east towards Belgium and check the area for anything particularly alarming. You shouldn't see anything too dangerous, honestly. This is just your initiation, my boy." Fraiser gave Joe a toothy smile before rolling up the map. Joe saluted him before making his way o the door. When he opened it, he could hear Dex speaking with someone. He was glad he was still around so he could have someone share in his excitement. As he made it into the hallway, Joe saw who Dex was talking with and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Just what in the world are you doing here?" Joe asked, his voice filled with annoyance.

"Now, Joe, is that any way to greet a friend?" Polly Perkins gave him a wide smile, her lips a bright red. She stood next to Dex wearing a white blouse and a dark blue dress. Her arms were pressed against her chest as she held a collection of papers and folders. Her wavy blond hair fell gracefully to her shoulders, her eyes sparkled in the light. She leaned against he hallway wall looking at him. "Especially one who got you the assignment of your dreams."

Joe immediately looked at Dex who smiled sheepishly at him. He whipped out a piece of gum and placed it in his mouth, chewing furiously. He glanced at his wristwatch.

"Gee whiz, I should probably get back to the airfield and prep for the patrol. See ya, Cap!" Dex tried to run off but Joe firmly gripped his arm.

"You and I are going to have a chat. Wait for me outside." Dex smiled at Polly, taken with her looks as he walked passed her to the stairway. Polly focused her attention on Joe.

"You still haven't thanked me, Joe."

"For what exactly?"

"Aww, come on. I'm the one who got you here."

"You're the non military personnel, I take it? Why are you here? Should you be with the Chronicle?"

"Oh, but I am Joe. Meet Polly Perkins: War Correspondent for the Chronicle. 'Bringing the war safely to the shore!' You like it? I plan on using that line for each of my reports."

"I think it's rather silly. This isn't a game, Polly."

Polly clicked her tongue. "Aww, worried about me, Joe?"

"Of course not!" Joe lied. He brushed passed the women who quickly took a position beside him.

"So, Sky Captain," Polly began, "how does it feel to be part of the war? What's this I hear about a mission? Can you fill me in? If you'll wait, I can snap a picture of you properly this time."

"Sorry, Polly. I don't talk to the press."

"C'mon, Joe. You can talk to me. I'm your friend." She flashed Joe a coy smile.

"You're nothing but trouble, Polly. I bet you'll be able to get a lead on a story that requires you to sabotage my plane again."

Polly sighed. "Can't you get over that at all? Joe, that was ages ago. I've managed to get over...what's her name."

Joe smiled. "Who, Franky? I was planning on seeing her again, since we're fighting for the same cause and all." He smiled wider at Polly's less than pleased reaction. He had reached the front door of the RAF command post and waved to Dex to bring the jeep in front of the entrance. He took a long look at Polly and stared into her eyes. As much as she annoyed him, it was really good to see her.

"Polly, I..." he stammered. "Thanks."

"Why Joseph Sullivan, I believe I haven't heard you say that to me in a good long while." She gave him a wide smile.

"Tell you what. Why don't you get your camera and I'll take you to the base. You can do a few interviews. It's the least I could do, right?"

Polly's eyes lit up. "This will be great! I can see the headlines now, 'Sky Captain to help save the day!'" Dex pulled up next to the couple and waited.

"Hurry and get your camera, Polly. We've got to get back soon."

Polly ran back into the building and to her first floor office. Her desk was littered with newspapers and notepads carrying various notes and reports. She picked up her camera and a small handbag containing rolls of film. Checking to see how many shots she had in the current roll, she placed the camera in her bag and rushed to the front entrance to meet Joe and Dex. However as soon as she got there, the two men could not be found. She frantically tried to look around for them but there was no trace. She walked over to one of the guards stationed at the checkpoint.

"Excuse me, but did you see a tall man with slicked brown hair around here?"

"Oh yes, I did actually. He was talking with you not too long ago."

"Yes, that's him. Do you know where he is?"

"I couldn't tell you for sure. He and his driver sped out of here just after you went back inside."

She let the impact of the trick Joe played on her to sink in. She felt angry that he fooled her and gypped her out of a story. Regardless, she smiled and said to her self, "You won't get rid of me that easily, Joe." Polly walked back to her office trying to figure her next plan of attack for extracting a story out of Joe's entrance into the war.


	6. Chapter Six

Expect this section to go through a major grammatical once over. I feel bad about leaving everyone hanging again, so here is chapter six!

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Chapter Six

Dex silently drove the jeep away from the building, trying to keep his full attention on the road. He hunched down in the driver's sit a bit under Joe's piercing stare. Dex knew Joe wouldn't have been too pleased with Polly's close involvement in the war and knew he would be even more upset with him for hiding it. Even though their past had been somewhat rocky, Dex knew Joe still cared about Polly and just wanted to see her safe from any degree of dangerous. He turned to face Joe and gave him a small, uneasy smile.

"C'mon, Cap. You've got to give her some credit. She did get you here, you know."

Joe shook his head and leaned back into the passenger seat. He propped his boots up on the dashboard and threw an arm around the back of Dex's chair. "I think she has the potential to become a serious bother. You knew what she did my plane, what happened to me that time. Let's see if you'd treat her well after spending an torturous time in a prison camp." Joe ran a hand through his hair to settle it as the wind blew it out of place. His felt his stomach churn slightly, but the attack was not as bad as before. He remembered that his stomach problems were caused by the time he spent in the prison, his body unable to adjust to the horrible and squalid conditions of the food he, along with the rest of the prisoners, were forced to eat. Apart from the cut fuel line, his stomach problems were yet another problem to blame on Polly.

"Gee, Joe," Dex said, "that was a long time ago and you're all right now. Can't you forgive her for that?" Joe sat quietly during the rest of the car ride, watching the horizon as the airfield slowly came into view.

Joe jumped out of the jeep as soon as it stopped and rushed to his office, telling Dex to get on the PA system and alert all pilots to the briefing room. Joe picked up maps of the area he was required to patrol and wrote down important notes to bring up during the meeting. Within fifteen minutes, the handful of pilots sat talking amongst themselves when Joe entered the room. When he stood in front of them, the men stopped talking and took their seats.

It had only took thirty minutes to get everyone assigned to their various five point patrol routes. Before dismissing the pilots, he told them that although the patrol would be relatively routine, he ordered each and every pilot back to base. He felt deep regard for his men and wanted them all to return safe and sound. When the men left and rushed to their planes, Joe zipped up his bomber jacket after folding up all of the maps he used for the briefing. His plane was fueled and ready as Joe stepped onto the tarmac and into his specialized P-40 Warhawk, his group of planes parked in tight formation awaiting their clearance. Once the garbled message came through his radio, Joe increased the speed of his engines and shifted the flight stick, his plane rolling down the runway with increased speed. Joe's squadron of four warplanes headed south from the airfield once they gained enough altitude.

Joe's wing of planes were nearing their fourth patrol point and he felt somewhat disappointed. There was nothing incredibly important to report on the patrol, and so far the skies have been peaceful. Unlike his patrol duties on the coast of the United States, Joe felt severely disappointed with the lack of enemy confrontations. Joe figured since they were passing near Dunkirk, the site of one of the major British retreats in the earliest moments of the war and also the location of one of Hitler's more questionable orders. The German troops were poised to overrun and crush the retreating British and French forces, but when the German officers requested to make their move, they were denied. Some believed that Hitler was still giving the British the chance to surrender peacefully, and the safe evacuation could have scored some points. However, as the following months and years passed, Britain showed no sign of ever folding to Hitler's commands. Joe sighed, his feeling of disappointment growing. He was about to radio in his wingmen and tell them to head home when his radar picked up four small green dots.

"You see it, Cap?" one of the pilots said into his radio.

"I see it. Get ready guys." Joe said, letting a small smile form on his lips.

"Could it be another one of our patrols?" another pilot asked.

Before Joe could respond, the pilot who spotted the planes spoke up. "Didn't you pay attention to the briefing? We are the only group of planes in this area today. You know what that means, right?"

"It's time to prove our worth," Joe said. "Okay boys, wait until they get about 2500 kilometers before breaking formation. Remember to watch your six and stay on their tails. Be careful out there. No heroics, understand?" The responses from the other pilots came from Joe's radio. He hunched his shoulders and let out a sigh. The skies were free of clouds and Joe could see a far into the distance. His eyes scanned the general area where the radar picked up the four planes and just to the right of his field of vision, he spotted four dark gray objects. Turning his plane in the direction of the bogies, Joe smiled once again. _Let's see what you've got_.

Joe's wingman broke from formation at the right distance and each one began to pursue a enemy fighter. Joe increased the throttle and shot his plane towards a lone German Messerschmitt. Getting in close to the fighter, he identified the craft as a gray and yellow Me-109, one of the top airplanes in the Luftwaffe and ever since he arrived in Europe, Joe had always wanted to see what these craft were made of.

The pilot of the Me-109 Joe was chasing after spotted him and banked the craft hard to the right in an attempt to throw the P-40 away from its path. Joe eased back on his speed and moved his plane in the direction of the fleeing craft, managing to get behind the tail of the swift German plane. Joe pressed his thumb again the trigger, activating the three machine guns on each wing. Bright yellow streams of light flew from the barrels of the plane's gun barrels, sweeping over the enemy plane. Joe continued to fire in short bursts as the Messerschmitt was weaving in and out of Joe's aim. Just as Joe thought he had gotten a successful hit, the German plane broke into a spinning dive, catching Joe off guard. He spun his craft to follow, but saw the other plane do a tight barrel roll and end up behind the Warhawk. Bullets flew past Joe's cockpit and he did his best to evade the constant stream of fire, weaving, rolling and pitching his plane to break the pursuer off his tail. After many sudden banking maneuvers, Joe managed to break free of the Me-109's attack and glide quickly to his right. Spinning his plane around, he crushed the trigger and fired several shots into the side of the enemy plane. A plume of black smoke flew out from the front of the plane as his bullets tore through the engine. Letting loss another fierce barrage of gunfire, Joe watched as the Me-109 exploded in a fantastic ball of fire in the clear skies, debris falling quickly to the earth.

"That's one for Sky Captain," Joe said into his radio.

"Good one, Cap!" one of the pilots replied back. "Just about ready...now!" Joe heard an explosion over the droning of his engines and watched as one of his wingmen rolled through the sky. "Wahoo! One for Smith! That's two down, boys!"

Another explosion was visible from the corner of Joe's eyes. "That's Three! Is this some kind of joke?" Joe peered around to find the remaining plane, noticing a gray parachute open up above the crashing debris of the recent kill, wishing the pilot well on his trip back to land. He wondered if he would ever meet up with him in the skies. Joe turned his attention to his radio and the voice crying out from it.

"Gimmie a hand here, guys! He's hard on my tail!"

Joe saw the younger pilot he flew with on the escort mission struggling to dodge the gunfire from a German plane that was close on his tail.

"He's mine." Joe said into his radio and bolted toward the hunting Messerschmitt, drawing closer and closer on the yellow tail. He waited until the plane was in the perfect center of the metal target placed just below the base of the cockpit window before firing on the ship. He needed to be careful and make sure any stray bullets cut through his wingman. Joe gripped his radio and shouted, "Hey kid, dive now!" the hunted P-40 dove his plane down to the earth, which seemed to catch the other plane by surprise. Taking advantage of the pilot's slow reaction, Joe's stream of gunfire ate through the Messerschmit's wings, cutting loose pieces of metal. The pilot tried to get out of the way, but Joe stuck to him hard, his attack continuing without mercy. Suddenly, a burst of gunfire ripped the right wing of the German plane clean off, sending the mutilated heap of metal spinning quickly to the ground, a plume of fire coming up from the green area once impact was made.

"Great work, gentlemen," Joe said to his pilots. "Status check."

"Gotta clean plane, sir."

"A bit scratched, but nothing a little makeup can't fix."

"I'm fine," the younger pilot said. "Thanks, Cap."

"Don't worry about it, kid," Joe said in a kind voice. "It was your first time seeing some real action. Learn from it. Form up on my wing, everyone. We're going home."

The wing of fighters moved into their places and began their flight back to the airfield on the southern tip of the island. It would take an hour before the planes could make contact with their control tower, so Joe spent the time writing down the events of the day in a small notebook. Listing the four navigation points, he scribbled a few notes about the area. When he got to the fourth nav point in his journal, he wrote "Me-109" and drew four small swastikas to indicate the number of fighters encountered and shot down. Joe closed up his patrol log and focused on the remaining miles that separated the wing from home. When the airfield came into view, Joe looked to his left and saw another wing of P-40s heading towards them.

"How'd you boys make out?" Joe said into his radio, flipping a switch to lower his landing gear.

"Not too bad, Cap" the head of the wing replied. "Met with a couple ME's but it wasn't anything we couldn't handle."

"Good to hear," Joe said. "Sky Captain to Legion airfield, request permission to land."

Arthur's voice broke through his radio. "Right, welcome back, Sullivan. Hope you had a pleasant trip out there. You're clear to land on runway two. Oh, and you have a visitor, she's waiting for you in your office."

Joe let out a groan, thinking that Polly had found her way to the airfield. Now she'd never leave him alone. "Roger that, Arthur. Commencing landing."

Joe aimed his plane towards the middle of the second runway and eased back the throttle while pushing his flight stick slowly forward. He heard the metal of his plane let out a shudder as the wheels made contact with the long dirt path, easing his speed just enough to park his plane into the hanger. Mechanics swarmed over the incoming planes, checking and noting any severe pieces of damage to the metal frame. Joe slid back the glass casing of his cockpit and stood on his set, watching as other fighters made their landings. Joe hopped out of the cockpit and removed his goggles and leather cap. He saw Dex meet up with the younger pilot and check over his plane. As he neared closer, Joe noticed that several bullet holes marked the right wing and hull of the metal craft. The young pilot stood by as the mechanics gave the plane a once over, his shoulders hunched as his arms were folded against his chest. Joe walked up behind the man and slapped him on the back.

"Nice work today, kid. Jerries sure came at us, eh?"

"I'm sorry, Cap," the young pilot said as he lowered his head.

"What for? You did you job and came back safe."

"I shouldn't have let that plane get on my tail so easily."

"Hey, don't worry about it. Believe me, you'll get many opportunities to hone your skills out here. You just gotta be careful, understand? We all need to be careful."

"Yes, sir," the pilot said, his shoulders easing back.

"Excellent. Why don't you meet up with the other pilots and get their patrol reports. Type them up and have them on my desk in an hour, okay?"

"You got it, Cap," the pilot ran off to meet with the other wing commanders.

Joe watched him as he left the hanger and felt a sudden dread as he remembered Polly would be in his office waiting for him, no doubt ready to pounce on him for a story. How could the war department trust her? With her style of journalism, she'll easily rat out the Allied war effort by publishing every sortie by the Flying Legions. He smoothed his dark hair and walked to his office, talking with other pilots on the way. Once he reached his door, he let out a sigh before gripping the handle. Turning it and pushing the door open wide, he spoke in an annoyed voice.

"All right, Polly, just what do you want—"

"I'm sorry, Joe. Were you expecting someone else?" Franky said with her back facing Joe.

"Hey, Franky," Joe smiled and threw on the charm. "To what do I owe this wonderful pleasure?" He sat in a chair in front of his desk and kicked his feet up. Franky turned to face him, arms folded casually against her chest, her visible eye gleaming from the dim light.

"Thought you could come by without saying hello? That's fairly rude, Joe."

"Hey, I've barely been here long enough to do anything. How've you been, Franky? Been awhile since we last fought together."

Franky sat on the opposite side of the desk, flipping through the notes of Joe's briefing from earlier in the afternoon. "Not much, really. Just been doing my duty here for Her Majesty. Glad to see you've finally gotten involved."

"Yeah, been waiting to see some real action. Patrolling the Coast got a bit tedious and too routine for me."

"My, my. Was Joe feeling a bit forgotten and under used?"

Joe laughed to himself and unzipped his bomber coat. "What brings you here today?"

"I just wanted to say hello and ask you to keep an eye out."

"What do you mean, Franky?"

Franky relayed to Joe the events regarding the destruction of Cunningham's aerial platform. She told him how the platform was swarmed with mysterious German fighters and a possible German platform that could fly circles around the Royal Navy.

"Watch yourself out there, okay?"

"Franky, you know me, right?" He flashed her a wide smile and moved himself onto the desk close to her. "Are we going to be flying together again?"

Franky leaned close to Joe, smiling. "Unfortunately, unless there are any recent changes, I've been relegated to patrol duty. Gonna be quite a few times where I'm going to be a bit lonely up there." She gave him a coy smile.

Before Joe could say anything, Joe heard Dex shouting from the outside of his office, a woman's voice bickering back at him. Joe rolled turned towards the door as it flew open revealing a rather angry looking Polly. She wore the same white blouse and dark blue skirt beneath a long beige trench coat with a worried Dex standing behind her.

"Well, look at this. How was the patrol Joe?"

Franky leaned passed Joe to look at Polly and raised an eyebrow. "Ah, Ms. Perkins. Quite surprised to see you here."

"I'm sure you are," Polly said as she thrust her fists against her hips.

Franky smiled as she hopped away from the desk. She walked towards the door and turned to face Joe once she stood next to Polly.

"Good to see you again, Joe. Just like Nanking again, right?" She gave a Polly a smile before leaving the area.

"Well, well," Polly said as she walked into the room and slammed the door behind her. "I come all the way here after you deserted me to find you hooking up with your girlfriend?"

"Oh, relax, Polly." Joe got up from the desk and searched a nearby drawer for his bottle of Magnesia as his stomach churned. He half listened to her complaints as he moved to his desk and kicked back. When Polly finished her ranting, she stood staring at him.

"What can I do for you, Polly? Did you just come here to yell at me or what? Shouldn't you head on back to HQ before it gets dark?"

"Well, not really," Polly said as she took off her coat and sat down. "I knew I had to keep an eye on you, so I got this straightened out." She gave him a triumphant grin as she handed Joe a folded letter. He snatched the paper from her outstretched hand and read it over. He peered over the paper when he finished reading it, his knuckles tightening.

"Guess who's gonna be hanging around to report on the success of the Flying Legions?" Polly crossed her legs and folded her hands on her lap.

"What makes you think you can report everything? Ever think how you could cause us some serious trouble like always?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to report on anything sensitive. I'm on a special mission from the Chronicle and War Department. You're good for morale, Joe," she said winking. "Now, where am I bunking? Do I get my own office like you."

It was Joe's turn to smile. "Terribly sorry, Polly. We don't have an extra room space. You're gonna have to sleep in the barracks. You should have gotten here sooner."

Polly got up from her chair and walked to the door. "We'll see, Joe. I think I'll go talk to your pilots. I'll be keeping an eye on you, Joseph Sullivan." She walked casually out of the room, walking past Dex who was conversing with Arthur. The two men walked into Joe's room.

"Sorry, Cap," Dex said. "That was an utter surprise to me, I swear."

"It's all right, Dex. It was bound to happen."

"My, she's a strong lass," Arthur said as he tipped his dark cap. "You're pretty lucky, Sullivan."

"Not as much as you'd think whenever she's around." Joe listened to the other men conversed while retreating into his thoughts. It did annoy him that Polly placed herself even closer to harm's way. Well, at least with her being this close, he could keep a better eye on her and keep her away from trouble, if it doesn't get here first.

And so, Joseph Sullivan and his Flying Legions made it home safely from their first wartime mission. Things would continue as they did, Sky Captain would go on routine patrols, act as escort and even fly out on strike missions against enemy bombers or fighter planes. As always, Polly was ready with notepad in hand to get the events of the day every time Joe landed back at the airfield.


	7. Intermission

Alrighty, after this short chapter, the plot begins. This is the last chapter which sets up the events around the story I have in mind. Hope nobody minds it took so long to do. Just wanted to set the stage. Again, I'll try and write as much as I can. Grad school is keeping me busy and I expect the next chapter will be a bit longer.

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Intermission

It is the tail end of 1942 and the war in Europe has become very, very busy. Earlier in the year, Europe saw a major influx of American soldiers who were directed to Egypt in order to soften up the southern border of the Axis territory. Once Operation Torch commenced, North Africa would finally occupied by American soldiers who would see their first major battle with the Germans in the Kasserine Pass, but where dealt a fierce bloody nose from the _Wehrmacht_, the German infantry, who had a higher degree of experience in desert combat. Allied forces also had to deal with the incredible commanding skills of Germany's top tank commanders, Erwin Rommel. When the British moved in to fight off the Germans in Africa, both sides were locked in a continual struggle over Mediterranean ports, with both sides gaining ground and then losing it while being pushed as far back as their initial positions before each thrust. The reason for this was because ports and supply points were few and far between the coast, with a side going as far as they could until they were so stretched out, they snapped back like a rubber band. The British, led by Bernard Montgomery, would continue to go through the tug of war match for Egypt for several years.

To the east of the Axis nation, Hitler had decided to go against his pact with the Soviet Union and begin a push towards invading Moscow and taking complete control of the German army in late December of 1941. The German high command viewed the Russians as _untermensch_, subhuman, which justified their conquest and turn the Russian soil into a glorious addition to his Reich. For a while, it seemed this goal would be possible considering the state of the Russian Red Army at this time. Because Stalin was a paranoid ruler, he made the decision to literally decapitate his army be executing everyone above the rank of Major. This lack of proper leadership made battles difficult to win, allowing the Germans to take city after city, the worst case being the city of Leningrad in which German forces surrounded the area and being their siege of the town. However, their goal was to kill the citizens by starving them to death and denying them external aid. 1942 saw Germany beginning their push to the city of Stalingrad in hopes of crushing the Russian army into submission.

Back on the American side of the war, the United States Navy had successfully won the decisive battle for Midway island. Midway was the "make or break" point for both the Americans and Japanese. Both sides were locked in a duel between aircraft carriers, and the goal of the U.S. navy was to knock out the four major Japanese carriers. Both sides tried to rely on misinformation to pull major carrier forces around Midway, but the Americans prevailed, while suffering their own losses. Destroying the Japanese carrier fleet cost the Americans two carriers, but the tide had officially turned in the Pacific. It marked the end of the easy Japanese campaign of Pacific islands and set the stage for its eventual defeat.

With everything going on at this time, it is easy to focus on the major battles of World War II. Because of this, the first phase of a secret and terrible German plot was ready to commence. If it weren't for the vigilance of Sky Captain, all Allied efforts would have been lost and the Axis would have had complete control of the world.


	8. Chapter Seven

New chapter! A note to reviewers. To those who know German, please look over the phrases I used. I haven't used German since high school and I've forgotten everything :P So, please email me the correct phrases if mine are wrong. I went through Altavista's translator to get the German phrases. I kinda like how this chapter came out and expect it to stay the same once the draft is finished and edited. I might touch up on more of the invasion of France to make sure my facts are straight.

Thanks and enjoy!

EDIT: For some reason, the beginning got cut off. Here is the complete chapter. Sorry, folks.

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Chapter Seven

"I've got a special mission for you, Joe." Fraiser said as he sat at his desk, his hands folded over a map. Joe had received the order from Fraiser to meet with him immediately to discuss plans for a secret assignment. Joe sat in a chair across from the large desk, glancing at a man standing behind the older officer and looking out the window. "I figured this would be a good opportunity for you, son," Fraiser said. "Help spread your wings and fill your record, eh?" He let out a short laugh.

"What have you got?" Joe asked, crossing his legs and placing his hands in his pockets.

"First," Fraiser said, "I want you to meet Lawrence Scott, leader of the Red Devils, a squad from our paratroopers, Joe."

Joe got up and shook hands with the man who presented himself after Fraiser's introduction. Lawrence was about the same height as Joe, wearing all beige clothing except for the red cap on his head.

"Glad to meet you, chap. I dare say I'll be quite lucky to work with the famous Sky Captain." The man's face was thin, his eyes dark and his hair light, Joe could feel the charisma behind this man. He had heard about the Red Devils business of parachuting behind enemy lines to commit acts of sabotage under cover of darkness. When Joe recalled this information, his stomach suddenly churned at the possible prospect of this meeting. Wincing, Joe sat back into his chair, Lawrence taking the one next to him. Both men focused their attention on Fraiser.

"Why don't you tell him about it, Lawrence," Fraiser said as he leaned back into his chair, placing his hands calmly against his stomach.

"My pleasure," Lawrence said as he shifted his body to meet Joe's glance. "Well, Joe, it looks like we have a German scientist who wants to defect. We picked up a transmission from one of our contacts in the French Resistance a three days ago. Much like the other messages we've received, he's grown disillusioned with Hitler's plan after seeing the damage done by Jerry's wake."

"Sounds like good news," Joe said as he tried hard not to squirm in his chair. "If you need us for air escort or cover, you can count on us."

Fraiser leaned forward and looked at Joe. "We'd like you to go along with Lawrence and his Red Devils on this one. You may bring a couple of your men along with you, if you'd like. But you'll be under Lawrence's orders once you hit the ground."

Joe felt as if his stomach dropped to the bottom of his boots. "'Hit the ground?' Sir, I'm a pilot. My fighting experience is mostly done in the air."

"Nonsense, Joe!" Fraiser laughed. "Everyone knows about the fight you put up in Totenkopf's hideaway. Besides, the area we are looking to pick up the scientist is quiet and contains a light compliment of troops. You should be just fine."

Lawrence smiled warmly at Joe. "I always take care of my boys, Joe."

Joe tried hard to keep the smile on his face, preparing to ask a question he already knew the answer to. "So, uh. I assume we'll be parachuting down behind enemies lines."

"Right, unless you have some better idea?" Lawrence laughed. "I doubt Jerry will just let us stroll right in. Again, we are going into a light area and don't expect a large number of troops. Our contacts in the Resistance have been scouting the area since they received the transmission. It will be a quick in and out, my friend. We've arranged transportation from the area when we are done and will head towards the coast to a small boat and get picked up by a fishing barge in the middle of the Channel. Easy as clockwork, Joe."

Fraiser stood up and motioned for Joe to the map covering the top of the desk. "Here, Joe. Lawrence will point out just exactly where you'll be landing." Joe listened to his orders and conversed more about the plan with Lawrence, all the while thinking why anyone would jump out of a perfectly good airplane.

When he made his way back to the airfield, he called a few pilots he knew who could handle such a job into his office. Unlike himself, the pilots seemed excited about sneaking around in the enemy's backyard to snatch up a scientist. When the men left, Joe leaned his head back and closed his eyes, taking in the silence that was immediately broken by Polly throwing open the door and landing on his desk.

"Anything special going on tonight, Joe?" she said, her eyes hopeful.

"Yes, but I can't tell you. I mean, I could but then I'd have to kill you...maybe I should tell you," he said with a laugh before waving her away.

"Aww, Joe. Come on."

"Sorry, Polly. Seriously, it's top secret. I'd figure you knew how important it is to keep your mouth shut. This isn't New York. This is World War II."

Polly pouted. "You're no fun, Joe. You gotta give me something. All I ever do is report on your escort and strike missions. Sure, your kills are good for morale, but I'm getting bored!"

Joe smiled. "Hey, you wanted to be assigned here. Why don't you go interview more pilots. Unlike me, they sure do love having you around."

"Well fine," Polly said as she got up from the desk and straightened her skirt. "I guess I'll see guys who appreciate me." She winked at him before making her exit. Joe sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes once again. _Polly was meant to bring me trouble, I know it_. Before he could rest, his door flew open again, revealing an eager Dex.

"Hey, Cap. I heard about your mission tonight from one of the pilots. Got room for another man?"

Joe blinked. "You want to go? I'd much rather have you here."

"Let me go, Cap. It sounds really exciting." Dex was leaning over Joe's desk, his eyes wide.

"All right, you can go, Dex. There will be a briefing in an hour. A plane will be coming by later tonight to lift us over to objective point, so get some rest. It will be a busy night, I'd expect."

"Thanks a bunch, Cap!" Dex ran out of the room, slammed the door shut behind him. Joe pressed his thumb and index finger between his eyes to ease the tension.

Joe stood with his arms crossed in front of the pilots, Dex hanging at his side. Given the nature of the mission, he ordered everyone to wear dark, lightweight clothes, along with their parachutes, and carry along a pistol of their choice. He was often told that they wouldn't meet with any trouble during the briefing with Fraiser and Lawrence, but Joe wanted to make sure he gave his boys a degree of protection.

"Is everyone clear with what is going to happen tonight? A plane carrying a number of the Red Devils will land here in about thirty minutes to pick us up and fly over the northern coast of France. When we parachute to the ground, we will meet up with a member of the French Resistance who will lead us to the small chateau housing the scientist. We'll sneak in, drop some guards if necessary, get the scientist and make our getaway, hopefully with as little noise as possible. Everybody got that?"

All of the pilots nodded their heads at Joe's question. Several pilots checked their guns, sliding clips in and out of the handles of their Colt 1911s. While Joe, Dex and the rest of his men passed the time relaxing and mentally preparing themselves, Joe heard the soft droning of a plane's engines. One of the mechanics walked into the briefing room and motioned outside, quickly saying that the British plane was on its way.

Joe and his accompanying pilots exchanged pleasantries with Lawrence and several of the British paratroopers before boarding the C-47 "Skytrain" transport airplane. He spoke with other pilots who were already sitting in their seats along the sides of the aircraft before taking his spot towards the back of the craft. Lawrence was the last soldier to get in the plane slammed the large metal door shut, taking a position near the front of the plane and chatting with his paratroopers. Joe heard the propellers sputter to life and in no time, the C-47 was in the air heading towards German occupied France. After gauging the skills of Hitler's new army in Poland, Hitler began to send his troops west to take Holland, Luxembourg and Belgium and eventually France, using a new military strategy called the _blitzkrieg_. The push to France began on May 10, 1940 when the Wehrmacht bypassed France's line of defense called the Maginot Line. The problem with the Maginot Line was a large gap that had been intentionally left open because the French believed that the Germans would be unable to pass through the large Ardennes forest. While the infantry held the space open, German _panzer_ tanks had moved in and the invasion of France had begun. From that point, it took the German forces only forty three days to capture the country and force it to surrender. After the surrender, German established the French Vichy government which many angry French believed was a most humiliating act to have a government ruled by the Nazis. Many citizens wouldn't take the invasion sitting down, and when contact was made by Charles de Gaulle, who had successfully escaped to Britain, he ordered that the flame of resistance to never be put out.

About fifteen minutes into the flight, Lawrence stood up, gripping the long steel bar on the interior roof of the craft which stretched all the way to the end of the plane. "All right, lads, here is the game plan. Our target is a French chateau located several kilometers away from Rouen. Our reports from the Resistance have led us to parachute a handful of kilometers away next to a small wooded area, where we will hike to the chateau on foot after hooking up with the Resistance contact. As I know all of you have studied the recon photos, the building we are looking at is a three-story chateau which has been converted into a laboratory. The scientists are kept under a strict schedule, so by the time we get there, everyone should be asleep. All we have to do is get in, get out and meet back with our contact who will then shuttle us towards the coast and then its just a boat ride back to safety. Doesn't sound too hard, right chaps?"

The British soldiers nodded and voiced their agreements, Joe's team, on the other hand, looked as if they lost a bit of their initial excitement.

"What can we expect with resistance?" Joe asked, knowing the answer. He just wanted to reassure his men.

"The chateau is located near the outskirts of all standard German patrols. A garrison of older men and new recruits keeps an eye on things there. If we have to open fire, we should be okay as long as we get out of there fast. No rifles chaps, we have to be quick." Many of the soldiers check their side arms at that point, fitting bullets into the revolving chambers of their revolvers. Joe watched as Dex started to chat with one of the paratroopers next to him, he and his other pilots looking more relaxed. He leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes, feeling the plane jump softly from the turbulence. Joe took this opportunity to mentally prepare himself for the mission, trying to gather his strength for the most difficult part: jumping out of a plane. He recalled the instructions given to him once the C-47 landed on the airfield, that when they were at the right distance, they were to place a clip attached to the parachute on the steel bar on the roof of the plane. When the individual jumped out of the plane, the clip will pull a piece of fabric attached to the pack and after several seconds of free fall, the large piece of nylon will fly out of the pack and catch the air, gliding the trooper to the ground safely. When Joe was finished going through the steps of dropping out of the plane, he let himself doze off to sleep.

Joe grunted as his body gently hit the ground. He scrambled to his feet and removed the parachute from his body, quickly rolling up the fabric and running under the cover of the forest. After meeting with a few British soldiers, he leaned against a nearby tree until all men were accounted for. Just as Lawrence promised, the jump wasn't that bad. His parachute opened up in time, but he left himself unprepared for the large tug he felt when the parachute caught air and opened, throwing him up several feet in the air. Gripping the cords in his hand, he looked around and admired the spectacular view of the French countryside at night. Joe could see thousands of stars in the night sky and a few scattered lights on the ground in the distance. He spotted a large collection of lights past the small woods and believed that to be the objective.

Joe got up from his position against the tree as he saw Dex hit the ground and rush to Joe's side, struggle to fold his parachute up. Everyone crouched down as Lawrence whispered, "Okay, chaps. Drop your 'chutes here and we'll head over to the edge of the woods. From there we will be able to spot our contact." Everyone threw their parachutes and packs down onto the ground and pulled out their pistols as Lawrence led the way. Joe was impressed at how well the paratroopers could move so quickly yet barely make a sound. He nodded to Dex and proceeded to follow the group, sticking close to the rear to watch their backs, his Colt held close against his leg. When everyone reached the edge of the woods, several soldiers pulled out a pair of binoculars and looked in the direction of the chateau. After several moments of sitting in silence and listening to the crickets chirp, Joe heard a branch break to his right. He and the paratroopers turned to face the sound with pistols drawn. A figure came out from the shadows with its hands raised.

"Please, _mon ami_! Lower your weapons!" the figure shouted with a high pitched, thick French accent. The men dropped their weapons and Lawrence rushed to meet the person. Joe watched as the two people spoke in hushed voices and nodded from time to time. Lawrence waved at Joe to meet with him, and he quietly made his way towards them.

"Joe, I'd like you to meet our contact, Brigitte. She's been helping us out with this little plan."

Joe was a bit surprised to find out the contact was a woman because he couldn't tell that she was a woman from the dark clothes she had worn. Joe extended his hand to meet hers and shook it, feeling her strong grip.

"Well, Monsieur Sky Captain, I've heard so much about you. Glad you've come along for the ride. I was just telling Lawrence here that the chateau looks even emptier than before. There was a guard change earlier this evening. Right now there are about twenty soldiers, both older men and younger boys. We shouldn't have a problem, no?"

Joe stammered in agreement, her question having caught him off guard. He was captivated by this brave woman, her dark eyes was filled with the flame of vigorous resistance to her country's invaders. Her face was smudged with dirt, but Joe could see the beauty hiding behind it. He smiled at her as she moved ahead of the group and scouted the distance from the edge of the woods to the back end of the building. He heard Dex come behind him and whisper to him.

"Cap, she's really pretty. Extremely brave, too," Dex said, his voice sounding eager. One look at his friend and Joe knew that Dex was smitten with the woman.

"Save it, Dex. First things first, right?"

Dex pulled out his Colt and smiled. "You bet, Cap."

"All right, listen up!" Lawrence said to the group. We've got a bit of a jog to the chateau. I want everyone to keep quiet until we breach the building. No sense in waking up Jerry sooner than we want, right?" The group nodded their heads as Lawrence turned his attention to Brigitte. She nodded and broke into a run, her body in a crouched position as she sped across the grassy area. Lawrence, Joe, Dex and the rest of the group followed close behind, their movements quiet save for the low thudding of boots against soft earth and the soft clinking of metal buckles striking each other.

The chateau appeared to be much bigger than it looked from the edge of the woods. It was a large rectangular building made with exquisite gothic style masonry. Many windows dotted all sides of the building in short intervals from one another, some were dark, while others were bright with lamplight. As Joe quickly made his way to the building, he could partially see inside the lit rooms and spotted several German soldiers passing through rooms. They seemed to not notice the group of men charging towards the house and that pleased him. _So far, so good_, Joe thought to himself. The soldiers soon found themselves resting against the back wall of the chateau, allowing a brief moment of respite to catch their breath. Lawrence looked in the direction of Brigitte's pointing finger and nodded in acknowledgement. Using a series of hand gestures, Lawrence ordered one of his men to head towards the kitchen door and peer through the window to make sure the room was clear. The trooper walked carefully towards the door and peered through a small window. After ducking quickly several times, each look into the room longer than the previous one, the soldier called to the remaining troops using hand signals. At that point, Lawrence moved his hands quickly again, pointing to the soldier near the kitchen, two to Lawrence's left and finally to Joe and Dex. He told them that the group would be splitting up in order to cover two different entrances into the chateau. He handed Joe's group a picture of what the scientist looked like, which Joe studied for a good long while. Confident that he knew who to look for, Joe gave the picture back to Lawrence and read the paratrooper's signals. Joe understood that the scientist could be found in his sleeping quarters on the top floor.

When everything was said and done, Lawrence gave Joe's group a thumb's up before leading his group around the side of the building. Joe headed toward the soldier nearest the kitchen door and peered into the room. The kitchen was the size of a large dining room, with three long white tables, made up of several sinks, stoves and cabinets, placed in the center. Along the outer walls were cabinets, two large refrigeration units and another set of stoves. On the far end of the left wall was an open set of double doors which lead into the next room. Joe noticed that the room was clearly of any German soldiers and after taking in a deep breath, he twisted the metal doorknob and slowly ordered everyone inside.

Once inside, the soldiers took positions behind the central table and hunkered down while waiting for everyone to get in. Before Joe ordered his men to move, Joe froze as he heard a whistling sound coming from the next room. Joe looked around and spotted a light switch next to the door they passed through. Making a series of hand signals, one of the paratroopers got up and shut off the light, covering the kitchen with darkness. As soon as light escaped from the room, Joe rushed to the doors leading to the next room and leaned against the wall. He quickly peered out of the room and saw a German officer slowly making his way towards the kitchen, whistling the tune of the German national anthem. Joe slid his Colt into his leg holster and waited for the officer to enter the room.

When the figure stepped into the dark room, standing several feet away from Joe, he let out a short, guttural curse. Joe watched as the officer placed his right palm against the wall, trying to feel for the nearest light switch. In a quick flash, Joe gripped the officer's arm and pulled him against his body, his hand covering his mouth before he could make any noise. Joe struggled to keep the man in his grip who was fighting him vigorously. Joe felt the man beginning to slip from his arms and with one quick move of his hands, Joe reached for the man's head and twisted it sharply. The officer's muffled grunts stopped suddenly after Joe successfully broke the man's neck. Joe lifted the limp body in his arms and placed the dead officer in one of the larger cabinets. One of the paratroopers took Joe's position against the wall nearest the door and peered out. After placing the body out of sight, Joe looked to the soldier who motioned that safe access to the next room could be achieved. As the troops slowly moved out of the room, he heard Dex whisper to him. "Nice work."

Joe and the soldiers moved swiftly through the dining room and towards the door on the opposite side which led to a hallway. He was about to go into the area when a paratrooper stopped him. Taking out a small mirror from one of the satchels placed on his hip, he handed it to Joe and pointed towards the hallway. Moving the object into proper position, Joe spotted three German troops standing at the far end of the area, conversing with themselves. Joe gave the mirror back and tried to come up with a plan. The way the hall was designed, there would be no opportunities for moving undetected since the soldiers were blocking the double doors they needed to pass through. Joe could just as easily order his men to fire on the soldiers, but he wanted to see how long they could go before being detected. As he tried to think, the silence of the chateau was broken by three successive popping sounds. Following the gunshots were shouts and screams and then a high pitched ringing sound of the building's alarm system. The guards in the hall sprung to life and started gripping their rifles. Joe shouted to his troops and the men poured out from the door and fired on the German soldiers, catching them off guard. After making quick work of the enemy, Joe spoke to his troops.

"Okay, guys. Our cover is blown, we will have to fight the rest of the way. We'll head towards the staircase and make our way up to the third floor. Watch yourselves!" Joe led his men down the hall and towards the double doors. One of the British soldiers rushed in front of him and kicked open the doors. The soldier rushed into the foyer but a bullet from a German rifle struck him in the chest and sent him crashing to black and white tiled floor. The foyer was a large square shaped room which contained several thick stone pillars. Covering the second floor balcony were several Germans firing at the hallway entrance the British soldier come out of. Joe and the troops swarmed into the room and threw themselves behind the pillars for cover. He peered out from behind his cover and spotted four German soldiers firing at him from the second floor. Joe threw himself back behind the pillar as a bullet hit the left side of the stone structure and sent small pieces of rock against his cheek creating a small red smudge to form against his cheek. The sounds of gunfire filled the room. British paratroopers exchanged fire with the enemy, trying to fend off the attack. Joe watched as Dex moved out from behind his pillar and let out four shots from his Colt. When Joe moved out to aim for the German who shot at him, he saw that the soldier had dropped his rifle and fell forward over the railing and crashed to the floor. He looked back at Dex and laughed.

"Good boy, Dex!" He shouted to him. The firefight was over soon after and when Joe was about to give the all clear, he heard the sound of a door bursting open from across the room. He lifted his gun towards the area but dropped it as soon as he spotted Lawrence and his group. Two of them were not present. The paratroopers moved away from their cover and met up with Lawrence.

"Joe! You lead the charge for the scientist. Brigitte went on ahead to snatch the truck. We've gotta get out of here fast so as soon as you nab the scientist, come back down here and go through the front doors. We'll secure the area and wait for your arrival. Move!"

Joe picked up one of the submachine guns left over from one of the German soldiers, holding the gun close to his hip as he led his men up the staircase. The men rushed to the third floor and entered the main hallway. After dropping two more German guards, Joe headed towards the scientist's room and kicked open the door. Aiming the weapon around the room, he spotted a man cowering in the corner near the bed. The small man looked up and the glow of relief washed over his face. Joe felt the same as he identified the man he'd seen in the picture.

"Dr. Klaus?" Joe asked.

"_Ja, Ich bin Klaus. Americaner?_" He said, pointing to Joe.

Joe nodded and rushed over to the scientist, gripping his arm tightly. Dex rushed into the room and caught the man as Joe threw him. "Let's go!" he shouted. The paratroopers formed a protective circle around Dr. Klaus as the led him back to the foyer. They met little opposition as they moved, only encountering a small number of guards near the second floor staircase before shooting them down. When they reached the first floor, Joe looked through the double doors leading outside and saw that Lawrence and his men were hiding behind a large truck, firing on the second level of the house. Joe guided the men towards the front door exit, yelling to them above the gunfire from outside. When he was the only one left in the building, he started making his way out went bullets flew past him and shot through the wood of the open door. He jumped into a small alcove away from the door and waited until the gunfire hammering on the other side of the wall he was resting against let up. When he heard the bullets stop, he quickly hopped out and pressed his finger hard against the trigger of the machine gun, spraying the area with bullets, and letting his finger relax from the trigger as he saw the soldier hit the ground. Taking one last look around, Joe turned his body in the direction of the entrance and ran forward until he felt his body stop suddenly as if he had just ran into a brick wall. Stumbling back, Joe looked up to see the source of the mysterious obstruction.

Joe's eyes widened slightly. Standing in his path outside was a giant of a man. He stood about five feet taller than Joe and looked to be pure muscle. The giant stood with its arms folded, and wore all black clothing. On his right arm was a large red armband with a black swastika placed in the center of a white circle. The man's hair was blond, his face looked as if it was carved from stone.

Joe stood with his legs spread apart. "Wow, you're a big fella, aren't you?" He lifted up his machine gun and prepared to fire, but the giant gripped the barrel tightly and pulled it out of Joe's hands, taking it into his giant palms a snapped it in half life a piece of balsa wood. Surprised at this, Joe tried to slam his right fist into the other man's stomach, but it was just like punching a steel door. As he gripped his fist and yelped in pain, Joe looked up and closed his eyes as a giant fist bore down on him. He felt his body fly back and hit the far wall hard, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Stars filled his vision as his head felt like it was smashed against a blacksmith's anvil. He shook his head and quickly scurried between the giant's legs as he charged him. Rolling against the floor, Joe stood and waited for the giant's move. The man lunged after Joe, who tried to roll out of the way, but felt his jacket sleeve get caught in the towering man's grip. Joe swung his fist toward the man's face and struck him several times, his punches doing little to phase him. Swinging his fist once again, the giant grabbed Joe's fist into his own and squeezed hard. Joe shouted in pain before he felt his air cut off from the giant hand wrapped tightly around his throat. Joe kicked his legs, trying to break himself free from the vice-like grip. He felt his body weakening and his vision fade. Suddenly, Joe heard a shattering sound and felt himself crashing to the floor, gasping for air. Joe looked at the giant who turned his back to him. Standing in front of the man now was Dex holding the remains of a wooden chair in his hands. Being hit over the head with a hard wooden chair seemed to make the towering colossus even angrier, growling as he made his way towards Dex. Joe slowly got to his feet and shouted, his throat in pain.

"Dex, let's get out of here!" Joe picked up a flower vase and threw it at the back of the giant's head. Dex was able to slip past him as the man gripped the back of his head and swayed slightly from the blow. Dex caught up with Joe and they both ran outside towards the truck, the British paratroopers shouting for the two of them to hurry up. As they ran, Joe strafed to his left and right, trying to dodge the gunfire coming from the second floor. When he was several feet from the truck, Joe jumped the remaining distance, the upper part of his body landing on the bed of the truck. The paratroopers inside pulled his body fully into the truck and when Joe turned around to extend a hand for Dex, he didn't see him there. He quickly looked in the truck but he was nowhere to be found. Looking back at that entrance to the chateau, Joe saw Dex on the ground in the fetal position, gripping his wounded leg.

"Dex! Hold on! I'm coming to get you!"

When Joe tried to jump off the truck, he felt himself held back by the paratroopers. Lawrence came up behind Joe and gripped his arms as he tried to struggle.

"Let me go! We have to get Dex!" he shouted as he tried to break free.

"Joe, we have to go! No doubt they've alerted a nearby garrison. We don't have time!"

"We can still save him!" Joe said to Lawrence. He looked back at Dex and shouted to him. "Dex, hang on!"

"Cap!" Dex screamed as the lumbering German giant slowly made his way to him. "Get outta here! Quick!"

"Dex! I'm coming Dex!" Joe continued to struggle, but the blows from the giant made him weak. Soon he felt the truck's engine cause the vehicle to shake and slowly speed away from the chateau, bullet's ricocheting off the truck's metal siding. The last thing Joe saw before the truck moved far enough from the area was the lumbering Nazi giant picking Dex up in his arms as if he were a rag doll. Joe fell back against the bodies of the paratroopers sitting behind him, his head hung low, his legs hanging off the edge of the speeding truck.

The vehicle quickly and safely made its way to the rendezvous point on the coast of the French side of the English Channel. The paratroopers jumped off the truck and escorted a weary Dr. Klaus towards the small boat, Joe falling in behind the men. His own pilots tried to hurry him along, but Joe was lost in thought. When he made his way into the boat, he turned and saw Lawrence speaking with Brigitte who then ran back into the truck and sped away. Lawrence took Joe's arm tightly when he met up with him. "We have to hurry, mate."

The boat ride was just as uneventful as the truck ride. They steered their way through the English Channel and within the next half-hour, a civilian fishing barge piloted by another Resistance contact met up with the troops as planned. The soldiers jumped onto the barge, leaving the smaller sea faring craft along, the object bobbing up and down from the waves. It would take several hours for the barge to reach the British continent, which allowed the troops ample time to sleep the rest of the night.

When the morning sun gently lifted up from the horizon, Joe woke and found himself lying against a pile of fishnets at the back end of the boat. He looked towards the front and spotted the remaining Red Devils sitting in a group, muttering quietly amongst themselves. Klaus had joined the group and was sipping a drink from a white cup, a blanket placed over his white lab coat. Joe noticed that he shared the company with his own pilots who looked sad and defeated. It was the second time Joe had lost his friend. He couldn't believe how lucky Joe was to meet with him on Totenkopf's hidden island, but now, he doubted he would see Dex again for a long time. He knew that Dex would probably be thrown into some POW camp and Joe hoped that the Germans were a bit more humane that his captors were years ago. Lawrence quietly came and set next to Joe, handing him a small cup filled with a dark liquid.

"Here, Joe. Have some coffee, it'll warm you up. It's cold out here this morning."

Joe took the cup and sipped it quietly.

"Joe, hell, I'm sorry mate. There was nothing you could have done. We had to get out of there before putting all of us at risk."

"What do you think will happen to him, Lawrence?" Joe asked quietly, looking at the dark blue ocean.

"Well, he'll probably be taken to a POW camp. But you don't have to worry too much about him. We've lost several pilots and paratroopers over enemy lines and we've made it our duty to make escape attempts whenever captured. Hell, Joe, I escaped a POW camp for RAF pilots two years ago. I'm living proof that hope still exists."

Joe looked at him in surprise. "You were a prisoner of war?"

"Sure was. Went on a routine patrol mission last year and was accidentally spotted by a well armed German patrol. They got us to surrender and sent us to a camp in Holland. I and along with older pilots didn't care much for German hospitality so we skipped out. Wasn't easy though. We had to dig tunnels and believe me, trying to hide them can be really difficult. We managed to escape though under cover of darkness. Me and my chaps hooked up with a few Dutch Resistance members who helped us get back to the Continent."

Joe felt more and more respect towards Lawrence after hearing his story. Finding out about the constant escape attempts helped to regain his hope of seeing his friend again.

"Oh, and I went ahead and asked Brigitte to keep an eye and ear out for anything. We've had great luck with the French Resistance and they've never let us down before." Lawrence patted Joe's back. "Try and relax, Joe. We aren't giving Dex up so easily, understand?"

"Thanks, Lawrence."

The British soldier smiled at him and went to speak with the captain of the boat. Joe felt slightly reassured from the talk with Lawrence and hoped that the resistance could bring Dex back. While thinking about Dex, Joe also recalled the giant who took Dex away and gave himself a good knock on the head. How could anyone be that big and muscular was way beyond him. Joe hoped to meet that colossus again and pay him back for Dex. Joe leaned back against a pile of fishing nets, and allowed himself to fall asleep for the rest of the boat ride home.

Joe returned to the Flying Legion's airfield where they were greeted by flight crews and mechanics. Lawrence and his paratroopers exchanged pleasantries before leading Dr. Klaus into a truck and drove up the road from the airfield. Joe stood apart from the crowed and suddenly clapped his hands.

"Listen up, everyone." Joe looked over the glowing faces of his pilots and crew who formed a large circle around him. He saw Polly run up from the back and pushed her way up to the front of the crowd, her pad and pencil in hand. She looked around Joe and a look of concern grew on her face.

"As you can probably see," Joe swallowed hard, looking down at the ground. "We successfully captured the scientist who wanted to defect. No doubt he will fill us in on important enemy details. But the truth is, we've failed. The Legions failed by leaving one of our own behind." Joe let out a long sigh as he slipped his hands into his pockets. "Dex got shot in the leg and was captured before any of us could do anything."

The group of men exchanged shocked and saddened glances. Polly's face carried a look of shock, knowing that Dex's capture during wartime was much worse than being abducted by giant robots.

"Lawrence tells me that there is a good chance he will be treated with a level of decency and shipped to a POW camp. He also instructed our Resistance contact to find and track Dex's movements in order to spring him out and bring him home. But now, the only thing we can do is wait and try keep ourselves busy so the grief doesn't kill us. Dismissed." Joe turned away from the group and headed towards the hanger that housed his office. Polly came running up to him and stood right in his path. The makeup circling her eyes was smeared and tears fell silently from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Joe tried to walk around her, but Polly grabbed his arms. He stood silently as Polly wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest, dropping her pad of paper on the ground. Joe let his arms wrap around her, squeezing her body tightly against him.

----

That afternoon, a German Private in a dark gray uniform casually walked through a long hallway inside a busy building occupied by many German officers. The building was located within the French city of Vichy and acted as one of the central German command posts outside of the Fatherland. The hall had been lavishly decorated with old, traditional paintings and several flags of the Nazi Party. The younger soldier threw his right arm high in the air as he passed by other officers, letting out brief exclamations of "_Heil, Hitler!_" When he reached his destination, the soldier rapped his gloved fist three times against the large oak door. He waited until he heard "_Kommen Sie heirin_" from the within the room before twisting the handle and entering into the office.

The office was rather large, with the walls painted a soft brown and held many fine pieces of art. A few steps from the door were several comfortable looking chairs surrounding a small wooden table adorned with a beautiful bouquet of red flowers. Just past that was a large oak desk which held another set of flowers. The spacious room was bathed in sunlight which seeped into the room from the windows, except for one area in the corner to the right of the soldier. Although he couldn't tell in the darkened area, the soldier knew someone was sitting there.

The Private moved in front of the desk, clicked the heels of his black boots together as he lifted his right arm up in the air again, speaking his salute proudly. The man sitting behind the desk looked up from his work and noticed the man standing in front of him. He leaned back in his chair and gave the soldier a half-hearted salute.

"_Guten Morgen, Kapitan Faust. Heil Hitler._" Good morning, Captain Faust.

"_Guten Morgen, soldat. Was ist es?_" Good morning, soldier. What is it?

"_Docktor Klaus._"

Faust smiled as he made the connection. "_Ich vertraue, dass er weg erhielt?_" I trust he got away?

The soldier nodded as he stood in front of the smiling officer.

"S_ehr gut. Entlassen._" Very good. Dismissed.

The soldier clicked his heels, saluted again and headed out of the room, closing the door quietly. Faust pressed his hands together, drumming his fingers together in a slow rhythm. Faust spoke to the figure in the corner._ "Sehr gut. Ich höre, dass Sie einen Straggler aufhoben, Sigmund._" I hear you picked up a straggler, Sigmund. The floor creaked as the figure stood up from his dark corner and moved into the light. It was the same towering giant who fought with Joe in the chateau. Sigmund smiled a villainous grin at his leader, clutching his monstrous fists together.

"_Bilden Sie ihn bequem. Er ist zu uns jetzt besonders wichtig geworden_." Make him comfortable. He has become especially important to us now.

Sigmund let out a deep grunt of a laugh that sounded similar to a lion's roar as he stomped out of the room. Faust spun around in his chair around and peered through the windows. Based on all the reports he received, his plan had been successful. The additional capture of one of the attackers made him happy, especially when it was made known to him that it was Sky Captain's most trusted friend.

"_Sehr, sehr gut._"


	9. Chapter Eight

Hi everyone!

It's been awhile, hasn't it? I truly apologize for not keeping the story current and I hope I haven't ticked off everyone who likes this story. I promise to get on the ball as much as I can. School's started and that will keep me a bit busy.

Once again, sorry for the lack of any updates. Hope this new chapter will suffice as an apology!

-

Chapter Eight

Franky sat on her desk in her cabin on Platform One. She had her face buried in her hands after reading the message in front of her for the fifth time:

Franky,

Scientist retrieved. Dex taken. Resistance keeping eyes and ears open. Coming by at 1500 hours

-Joe

_Poor Dex_, she thought to herself as she leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed against her chest. She had always liked Dex when Joe introduced her to him years ago. His eagerness and curious nature always appealed to her and thought him to be the most charming mechanic she had ever met. As bad as she felt for Dex, she could help but feel slightly sick as to how Joe must have been feeling, especially since this was the second time he had be taken away. She looked at the clock on the far wall and noted the time, noticing that Joe would becoming by in about thirty minutes. She sighed as she stood from her chair, extending her arms high up into the air as she yawned, trying to stretch out the tension in her arms. After putting on her dark blue coat, she made her way to the command center. She stopped several times on her way to speak with other officers and flight crew who greeted her and handed her several reports. The status information she received showed that there had been minimal activity from German air forces from attempting to throw more vengeance rockets their way. The German inactivity bothered her slightly but remembered that the Wehrmacht and began its attack on Russia and figured the forces must be shifted to the East.

Walking at a slow and relaxed pace, it took her a significant amount of time to reach the command center. As she made her way up the steel stairs, Franky found her second in command standing tall and proud, her right hand taught as a piece of wood against her temple in salute.

"Good afternoon, Lucy. How are things?"

"Good, sir. We've just finished our patrol and Platform Fourteen is coming up from the south to relieve us in about fifteen minutes. Our patrol has shown nothing of concern. Just clean skies."

"Good. We'll be having a visitor in around the same time Fourteen gets here, just so you know."

"Who is it, sir? RAF officer?"

"Joe Sullivan."

Lucy could help but smile softly when she heard the name. "And what business will the great Sky Captain have here of all places, sir?"

Franky shook her head and laughed slightly. "Don't fancy any ideas, Lucy." She tried to keep her smiled as she knew what the nature of the meeting would be, that Dex was taken by Germany infantry and held prisoner.

A voice chimed from the far end of the command center. "Captain, tracking five contacts coming from the south."

"Thank you, navigator," Franky said over her Lucy's head. "I guess Sullivan brought a few friends with him."

"Captain," the navigator continued, "they seem to be moving pretty quickly."

"Guess he can't wait to see you again." Lucy said as she smiled into a set of reports handed to her.

"That will do, Lucy. Alert the flight crews and have them prepare—"

The entire platform shook violently from the explosion, causing Franky to be thrown hard to the metal floor with Lucy collapsing on top of her. Franky's cap fell from her head, her hair loosening as she struggled to get to her feet, screaming to her crew.

"What the hell was that? Report!"

"It's those contacts! They are circling our positions at an impossible speed!"

"Damage report!"

"Hanger Three destroyed!"

"Scramble all fighters now!" Franky shouted as she ran to the navigator, watching the five green dots gliding all over the screen like gnats. She looked out the front window and caught one of the objects passing by at an alarming speed.

"Good Lord…." Franky said as the glass from the blown observation window flying in her direction.

Joe flew his warplane casually through the partly cloudy skies. He had received the coordinates to Franky's Platform and wanted to talk with her about Dex. She cared about him as much as he did and knew she would be more than a little upset. He looked at his small radar screen and saw the large green dot of the platform slowly inching its way towards the center. He also saw five smaller dots circling the platform. _Franky's probably running maneuvers._ Joe pulled his radio from his console and spoke into the receiver.

"Sky Captain to Platform One, come in. Requesting permission to land, over."

After a period of silence, Joe spoke into the radio once again. "Platform One this is Sky Captain, requesting permission to land, over. Do you copy, over."

Joe felt a little annoyed that he couldn't get a response from the Platform. He knew he was in appropriate range and they should have been able to receive his transmission. Joe increased his throttle as he passed through a cloudbank. When he came out the other end, the site made his eyes widen.

Numerous plumes of dark smoke was coming from the flight deck and his eyes could barely keep up with small dark shapes circling the wounded structure. As he watched the carnage a handful of kilometers in front of him, his radio sprung to life.

"Sky Captain! We are under attack! We are scrambling fighters. Join them and protect Platform One until reinforcements arrive!"

Joe pushed the throttle as high as it would go as he led his plane towards the platform. He spotted four blue fighters quickly make their escape from the attack on the landing strip, turning to meet up with Sullivan's place. Joe heard a male voice come from his radio.

"Got here just in time, Sullivan, all hell broke loose!"

"Happy to help. Break your formation and pick your targets. We've got them matched!"

"You got it, Sullivan. All right, boys. Tally ho!" The group of four blue planes broke their tight formation and turned to chase after the enemy planes. Joe was having a hard time keeping track of the fighters encircling the Platform because they moved faster than anything Joe had ever seen. He had to try so hard to keep the planes in his field of vision that he forced himself not to blink. When he finally managed to catch the tail of the enemy fighter, Joe logged its appearance in his mind. The craft was composed of a dark colored metal and had a relatively sleek design. What was difficult to comprehend was the fact that the plan was not being powered by propellers, but two cylindrical objects on each wing. What could possibly be in those objects that propelled the fighter through the sky with such speed. Joe pressed the trigger on his flight stick, sending a stream of gunfire in the direction of the craft. Suddenly, the plane in front of him shot straight up into the air with such speed, Joe felt like he sprained his neck trying to follow its path. His vision was distracted from an explosion on the platform to his left and when he turned his eyes up a split second later, the craft was nowhere to be seen. Frantically looking to his left and right, he lifted his radio and shouted.

"Status report! All planes report in!"

"Having a bugger of a time here, Sullivan! These things are just too fast! I've already lost two of my boys just chasing after one of them!"

Joe felt his plane shudder as her loud pinging noises on the left side of the craft. Jerking his head in the direction of the sound, he spotted the enemy plane firing at him. He pulled his flight stick hard to the right and forward, conducting a diving roll to shake the fighter off his tail. Of course, saying so was easier said than done. Joe tried every maneuver he knew but couldn't shake off his pursuer. As he found himself nearing the wounded platform, Joe prepared himself for a drastic move that Franky probably wouldn't be too pleased about. He piloted his ship closer to the platform, weaving left and right to dodge the stream of gunfire from behind him. He flipped a small metal switch on his console and hear a soft whirring from underneath the plane. A small red light flashed, altering Joe that his mini harpoon was ready to be deployed. He waited until he was flying over the empty flight deck and positioned his plane so that one end of the harpoon would strike the hull of his pursuer and one of the platform's burning hangers. Muttering himself, he hit the switch to deploy the harpoons, praying they hit their mark.

The German pilot flying his jet fighter didn't know what to make of the small flash of metal that shot towards his plane. Before he could react, he heard the sharp end of the harpoon strike the hull and pierce through the thick metal, and through his right boot. Shouting in pain, he tried to pitch his plane away from the American fighter but felt himself pulled quickly forward. He tried to pull up, but the plane seemed to freeze in mid air before descending even faster. The pain in his foot shot through his entire body, causing him to lose control of the craft, sending it spinning towards the fiery flight deck.

Joe watched as the plane spun upside down and skid across the flight deck, seeing shards of glass from the cockpit canopy flying in all directions. The plane smashed hard against the side of a hanger, brining it to a full stop. Joe breathed a sigh of relief as the fighter remained relatively intact. It should make the engineers happy. Joe thought of Dex, knowing that he would have a blast taking the ship apart and finding out what made it tick. Joe's plane shook violently again as two jet fighters fell behind his tail.

"Help me out here! I've got two on my tail!" Joe screamed into his radio.

"Blast, Joe, I can't see you! I've got one on my tail! Where the bloody hell are you!"

Joe moved his plane around erratically to fend off his attackers. He heard bullets strike against his wing and the right side of the hull. He wove his plane to the platform's underbelly, trying to weave through the steel girders in hope of catching the German planes off guard and away from him. When he cleared the platform, the fighters were still on his tail. He climbed drastically into the air but he jus could not get away. He ducked down into his seat as several bullets came through the glass of his canopy. Joe was about to bail out when a flash of blue appeared on his right. As he turned his head, Joe saw an explosion behind him leaving only one German fighter behind him who quickly flew in the opposite direction. Joe's radio came alive.

"Sullivan! It's Eleven!"

Joe looked to his radar and spotted another large green dot slowly approaching Platform One. Looking around him, Joe saw that the sky was full of the blue fighters used by the British platforms. On the lower right of the radar and quickly moving out of range were two small dots. _Just in time Eleven._

"Sky Captain to Platform Eleven. Right on time."

"Platform Eleven to Sky Captain. Sorry we couldn't get here sooner. Looks like you handed yourself pretty well though."

"Like hell we did. Those new German fighters were way too fast. Just four managed to do this much damage."

"Just what were you trying to accomplish with crashing that plane on my deck, Joe?" Franky said, sounding more than a little upset.

"Thought you'd might like a present, Franky."

"You're lucky you didn't kill anyone with that stunt."

"So sorry, Franky. Clearance to land? I'm in relatively bad shape here."

"I have half a mind to leave you flying out there until you crash. Land on Eleven. As you can see, our deck is a bit cluttered."

"Roger, Franky. Sky Captain to Platform Eleven. Request permission to land."

"Permission grant, Sky Captain. Be a chap and land on runway two."

"Roger, Eleven. Platform two."

Joe flipped a switch for his landing gear as he glided his wounded plane towards Platform Eleven. His plane left a small trail of black smoke as he flew past Platform One, watching the tiny flight crew and mechanics rushing to put the fires out. He wanted to make sure and get to One as soon as possible to check out the mysterious new German fighter that flew circles around him. _I guess there is a first for everything_, Joe thought, feeling a bit unnerved by the events of the afternoon.


End file.
